Of killers and traitors
by Lilithakaducky
Summary: Will Snape survive Voldemort's torture? And will Harry find his inner peace again? Rating for graphic violence and severe Snapeangst
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: The characters of Harry Potter are not mine. If they were, I would be J.K.Rowling, which would mean that I'd be riiiiich sigh. Since I'm obviously not her, and neither rich, it wouldn't do you any good to sue me. You'd only end up with four noisy kids, so better let it be:-P 

The original fic was written in German and I have to admit that it lost quite a bit of it's quality, since my vocabulary in English isn't the biggest one. So far I was okay with it though, since I had Slytherin's silver snake and Sadistra, who helped me a lot with the grammar. You are both great, girls.

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**WARNING****: This story deals with detailed torture, neglect, mentioned rape and is full of disturbing content. There is a lot of harm before any comfort and when you think it can't get worse, it will. Please, if you are squemish or if such content disturbs you, DON'T read this fic. **

Of killers and traitors:

Prologue:

Sirius Black and Severus Snape had never been friends. On the contrary, since the day they had met, a deep dislike, almost enmity, had ruled their dealings with one another. But now, as they stood face to face, fists balled, bodies rigid with tension and barely contained anger, pure hatred lay in their eyes.

„Sit down, you're making a spectacle out of yourselves in front of the students," Dumbledore admonished the two wizards. Snape and Black stood behind the Head Table, two meters away from each other, squaring off like two enraged manticores.

The Great Hall fell silent as hundreds of eyes were drawn to the Head Table by the spectacle playing out before them, but neither Black nor Snape seemed to notice and continued glaring at one another with hate-filled eyes. Dumbledore's words had fallen on deaf ears, and the two men remained on their feet.

„I've known it all along. Snape. You're nothing but a greasy, traitorous opportunist," Black hissed.

Snape just glared at Black for a moment before a vicious smile stole across Snape's face and he relaxed slightly. A sinister triumph glittered in his eyes and his voice was neither loud nor sharp as he replied, „And you, Black, are a liability, a fugitive wanted by the ministry... dead or alive."

Before anybody had time to react. Snape slipped his wand from his sleeve and leveled it at Black. His face twisted into a sneer as he mouthed two words. „Avada Kedavra."

Black had just enough time for his eyes to widen in disbelief before the piercing green light hit him.

* * *

T.B.C. 


	2. The fight

Yay, I found myself a beta-reader. My very good friend Niara is helping me out and I want to apologize to her again, for the hard work I put her through. Thank you so much my dear.

NIARA RUUUUUUUULLEEEEEEEEEZZZZ!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Chapter one:

_One week previous:_

"I hate him."

Harry didn't even bother to look up from his parchment; he knew perfectly, who his friend was referring to. And he felt tempted to fully agree with Ron. With a sigh, he started to restudy the chapter of "Healing potions and salves," which he just read. His concentration was simply deserting him, when it came to the effects of Wallwurz in a potion and what various results it could have, wherever the plant was smashed, dried, cut or squeezed. And as if that wasn't complicated enough, wherever the plant changed its effect at each different way of preparing it, it was also depending on color, state of growth, and harvest time. On top of all that, Snape demanded an essay about it. With a frustrated groan, Harry threw his quill down on the parchment end slammed the book shut.

"It's no use. I'll never learn this."

He looked over at Ron, who wasn't even pretending to study, and had his elbows braced on his book, his head buried in his hands. "I hate him," he repeated miserably. "Depending on the way you use Wallwurz, it has over threehunderd different effects on a potion. What normal human being, wizard or not, could possibly memorize all this? No one." He slightly lifted his head and peered at Harry through his eyelashes. N-O-O-N-E, I say."

"Hello you two," a joyful voice from the stairs to the girls-dormitory greeted them.

They turned their heads simultaneously, only to see a widely grinning Hermoine approaching them.

"Okay," Ron said. "Cut that. There IS someone."

Hermoine stepped to their side but as she took a glance at the books the two boys were studying, her carefree face changed within a split second into an indignant mask. "Don't tell me, that you still haven't finished Snape's homework yet? You have to hand it in tomorrow!"

"You think we don't know that?" Rom muttered, his eyes going back to the book. He stared blindly at it for a moment, before he sighed resignedly and laid his head down on the open pages. "I hate him."

Harry could not keep from grinning. It was an open secret that Ron considered everything that the potions master did or said as something terrible. Even if the man suddenly acted fairly towards them and reduce the detentions and homework to a tolerable level, Ron would still suspect another evilness behind it.

Hermoine though, didn't seem to see anything amusing in his comment. Outraged, she put her hands on her waist. "Ron Weasley: Don't you go on blaming others, when you postpone your homework until the last possible moment. We knew two weeks ago that we had to write this essay." Her glance wandered from the red-haired boy to Harry, and her look towards him was not less severe. "The same goes for you, Harry. Instead of strolling around and talk about Quiddich, you should have rather spent your time studying, then you'd know the school stuff by now.

"Quiddich is more important than Wallwurz," Ron defied dully, his head still resting on his book.

"Maybe you get to convince Snape of this too. You perfectly know that you'll get detention and at least five points minus, if you appear in potions without your homework. Besides, you'll fail the test about Wallwurz, which Snape has announced to be in two weeks.

At this reminder, Ron and Harry both produced a noise that sounded suspiciously much like a moan.

"What do I even care if you'll fail potions? I for that matter have studied the different effects of the plant cautiously." Hermione's voice  clearly won some enthusiasm, as she was talking about her unusual hobby, namely studying. Harry was convinced she would show the same enthusiasm if she were to learn about the color of the wind or the wetness of water.

"Wallwurz is an amazing plant, you know? My essay has in the end gotten twice as long as demanded."

This time, the moaning of the boys was clearly audible.

And this, of course, didn't get past Hermoine, and it cooled her enthusiasm considerably and chased the proud look off her face. "Fine, just go on like this. You'll see where it'll bring you, when you fail potions. I'll go to dinner anyway. You're coming too?" she asked snappish.

Ron threw Harry a bitter look and as if on command, his stomach started to rumble loudly.

Harry sighed again. "If we leave now, we'll never finish the essay. We'll go to the kitchen later, to get some food."

"I hate him," Ron groaned once more, but he didn't protest against Harry's suggestion.

"It's entirely your own fault," Hermoine repeated saucily.

                                                               *************                                                   

"Psst, Harry. Quiet now. We're entering the war zone."

Unconsciously, Harry pulled the invisible cloak tighter around the two of them, as they entered the dungeons. The secret passage to the kitchen had only one down point. Its entrance was close to where Snape housed and none of them had the desire to bump into the cranky potions master. Last time it had happened, he had almost discovered them.

They were especially careful not to make any noise as they approached the potions classroom, when suddenly, a well-known and threatening voice made them stop in their tracks.

"Out of my dungeons, right now, or I'll get really angry!"

They turned around, or tried at least, under the hindering cloth, but behind them, the corridor was empty.

"You can't order me around, Snape."

Harry inhaled sharply, as he recognized the new voice. Also did they both see now that the angry voices came from an adjoining room further down the corridor, where a door stood slightly ajar.

Harry and Ron exchanged a questioning look, before they sneaked to the open door and glanced into the piece. Harry recognized the place instantly as Snape's supply room. While doing detention, he had once been cleaning the wall-high shelves, and the jars and glasses that were stuffed on them. 

But what caught their attention, were the two men, who were facing each other in the middle of the room. And both of them were clearly angry.

Snape was dressed in his usual black robe, his hair as greasy as ever and his black eyes narrowed in resentment. Across from him stood Sirius Black in a dark-brown, well-worn robe, his gaunt face, marked of a hard life, pulled into an angry grimace. 

"You can consider yourself lucky that Dumbledore is keeping you here, Black. If the Ministry would know about you, you'd be receiving the Dementor's kiss, before you can say 'I'm innocent'." Snape's voice was not very loud, but its sharpness made Harry's skin crawl. Snape was most dangerous when he spoke in a low voice. This was something every first year student learnt very fast.

"Well, the Headmaster is a little smarter than a certain, slimy Slytherin I know," Black answered with a snort.

"You've always been an arrogant bastard, Black. Growing up didn't change you a bit."

"At least I didn't have myself mark by Voldemort and can still take a look in the mirror without being ashamed of myself. You seem to have given up on that altogether anyway, or you would see how disgusting you are. You ever heard anything about soap or shampoo?"

Harry nudged Ron in the ribs, as the redhead slightly chuckled.

"Get out of my dungeons, Black. I won't repeat it again." Snape's voice was silky and had a very low, threatening timbre. Red alert, as every student knew.

But Black didn't seem impressed. "And if I stay, what will you do about it? Complain to the Headmaster? Oh, wait. Didn't you try that already? Twice even. Both times it had to do with the shrieking shack. And both times it didn't help you a bit. Dumbledore hasn't betrayed or chased me away once. Besides, he knows that I'm here. He himself invited Lupin and me to come to the school."

"Lupin is here too…" Ron whispered excitedly, but Harry shut him up with another nudge into Ron's ribs and a finger across his lips.

Snape's eyes had in the meantime gotten a murderous gleam. Faster, than Harry would have thought possible, the potions master had reached Black, grabbing him violently by the collar of his robe, his face only centimeters from the other's. "I'm warning you for the last time, Black. I don't need the Headmaster to deal with you. The dark lord is getting stronger by the moment and the ministry isn't very fond of Dumbledore. Hundreds of students are living in this castle. Hundreds of students, who believe firmly, that Sirius Black is a serial killer, and whose parents would consider everybody a hero who'd get rid of this murdering menace. Don't you dare me, Black. I can destroy you in a second if I'd wish to do so."

Black barked out a laugh, even if the laughter had a forced edge to it. "If you do that, the Headmaster will have your head."

"The Headmaster has not expelled you once, and thus he owes me something now. I have kept quiet then, about Lupin, and later on I spied for Dumbledore, while risking my life for him and his cause. Dumbledore is more than tolerable towards my actions and me. And even if he should not let me get away with killing you, and send me away from here, then I still have other possibilities than this school. So you better watch out."

"You're completely nuts, Snape. What do you mean, other possibilities?"

Snape let go of Black and stepped back. He just shrugged with an evil smirk. "Get lost, Black," he said in an almost amiable tone.

Black stared at him for another minute with an incredulous expression, before he turned angrily around and hurried to the door.

Harry and Ron had just enough time to jump out of the way, as Black rushed passed them and disappeared around the next corner of the corridor.

"I don't need the Headmaster."

The whispered words made them turn back to look into the room. Snape wore a thoughtful face, while his left hand was gripping his right forearm. At exactly the same place, where Harry had once seen the dark mark.

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T.B.C. _maybe_:-P

Depending on what people want and on Niara and her willingness to beta the other chapters too, I'll keep on translating the rest of the fic gradually.


	3. Meeting again

Big thanks to all reviewers. You're the best and best motivation to keep on translating.

About the right or left arm. I must admit, that I was quite confused about that too. You see. In 90 % of all the fanfics I read, that the mark is on Sevies left forearm. Now, I only read the German translation of the Harry Potter books. In the forth one, when Kakarov is showing Snape his mark in class, he's showing him his left arm, but in the end, when Snape shows it to Fudge, he pulls up his RIGHT sleeve to show it. So I guess it's a mistake of the book's translations. I'm sorry if I got it wrong, but I didn't know any better and hesitated on which version I should rely. In the end, I decided to stick to the version I knew of the book, because I don't know the original.

Chapter two:

Meeting again 

Harry felt Ron's hand on his arm as his friend led him silently from the supply room. Without resisting, he let himself be steered away and together they ran towards the Gryffindor tower - - both of them had lost all interest in food at that point.

Only after having brought a healthy distance between them and the dungeons, did they slow down.

"Snape can be such a git. But at least Black and Lupin are here to keep him under control," Ron whispered.

Harry nodded. "I just wonder why Sirius didn't send me an owl to announce his coming, or did at least come to see me right upon his arrival in Hogwarts."

"Geez, Harry. It's half past eleven at night. If they only just arrived, you can't expect Black to visit you at this hour in the dormitory. We are supposed to be asleep right now, as I remind you."

Harry waved his hand in the general direction of the dungeons. " And what would Sirius be doing down there so late? And Snape?" he hissed.

Ron shrugged nonchalantly." Sirius probably had to fetch something for Dumbledore, and it's no big news that Snape loves to sniff around at night, in a sick hope to catch students out after curfew. This guy is a cranky sadist, who only then feels some kind of liveliness, when he finds a way to make others suffer.

"Right," Harry agreed. "Let's go back to the Griffindor tower. We'd rather go to bed now too." 

"Yes. I don't feel comfortable, when I know that that greasy vampire is sneaking around."

One hour later, as a low snoring announced Ron to be fast asleep, Harry was still wide-awake in his bed, staring at the red sky of his bed. He was happy and exited to know that his Godfather was close and that he would, with all probability see him in the morning, but that wasn't the only reason, why sleep eluded him. Deep down in his gut, a bad feeling had taken root. Something was bothering him, but he couldn't put his finger on what it was. Snape's threats towards Sirius too, bothered him more than he cared for. Now, it was no secret that the two of them didn't stand on good ground but they had both, on Dumbledores wish, agreed to a truth of arms, since they were on the same side after all. The Headmaster had said so, and yet…

Voldemort was steadily gaining power without them being able to do something about it. Through Harry's involuntary help, he had even gotten his body back. The ministry though was still doing their best to ignore his existence, and the situation was slowly getting out of control. And since a while now, Snape had been getting edgier as usual. He was yelling at the students at every opportunity and acted nastier than ever, towards the people around him. As well was he quite often coming to class with delay. Something that would never have happened only one year ago. Hell would have frozen over, before Snape would have been late for one of his classes. And when he finally showed up in class now, he was snappish and impatient, as if he couldn't wait for the lesson to be over.

Harry pushed those thoughts aside, rolling over to his left side with a sigh and closing his eyes. There was no use to think about such things right now. Tomorrow he would talk to Sirius about it. His Godfather would surely be able to help him sort his wild thoughts. He always brought good advise and news, which helped, enlighten current problems. Yes, Sirius would help erase his worries this time too.

With that knowledge, Harry snuggled deeper down under the covers and a smile spread over his face for a moment, only to promptly disappear again, as he remembered something. His eyes flew open and suddenly he knew, what had been bothering him so much. Snape had called Voldemort the dark lord. Not his name or you-know-who, or the-one-who-must-not-be-named. No, he had clearly said: The dark lord is getting stronger, and there hadn't been any fear or repulsion in his voice. Rather something akin to…hope.

At this revelation, Harry shot up into a sitting position. That was not possible; he surely simply misunderstood. True, Snape had been a deatheater once, but now he was on their side. Dumbledore trusted him, and the Headmaster was above all doubt. He would know if Snape would double-cross them.

With those consoling thoughts, Harry sank back down on his pillow and held stubbornly onto this, hoping that this knowledge would chase the bad feeling in the pit of his gut.

Two hours later, he was still lying in his bed, wide-awake.

*************

"Hey Harry," Ron greeted him the next morning, his words distorted by a wide yawn, as he stretched his arms high about his head to chase the last stiffness of sleep out of them. "Slept well?"

"Yes," lied Harry and sat up on the bed, rubbing his eyes. The truth though, was that he only fell asleep a couple of hours earlier and that his body was sending unmistakable signs that it wanted to go back asleep, but Harry knew, that there was no way to get out of bed in time, if he allowed his tired body the luxury of an extra five minutes, which would without a doubt extend into a few more hours. Thankfully, he had learned to get along on little sleep with the Dursley's.

"Doesn't really look like it, though," Ron comented as he studied him from over his bed. "You look like an animated corpse."

"Funny," Harry replied dryly. He took a determinate deep breath and swung his legs over the edge of his bed, pushing himself off the futon. With little enthusiasm, he stumbled to the bathroom. A shower would hopefully do the job of waking him up.

********************

 As he stepped into the common room, Ron and Hermoine were already waiting for him there.

"Say, is it true, what Ron has told me? That you overheard Snape and Sirius last night?"

Harry nodded. "Yes. Looks like Sirius and professor Lupin are both here in Hogwarts."

"Oh, this is great news, Harry," Hermoine exclaimed clapping her hands together excitedly. "I only hope that they can stay a bit this time. You don't see your Godfather nearly enough," she added a bit more somberly with a regretting face.

Harry smiled encouraging at her. Hermoine had a huge sense of justice and the fact that Black was being accused and chased for a terrible crime, even though he was innocent, was going against all she stood for.

"That will be so great. At least as long as Snape is staying off our skin." Ron's voice was crabby and his look pensive.

Harry looked over to Hermoine and reading her worried expression, he could tell that Ron had already told her the details of the fight between Snape and Sirius.

Suddenly, the portrait of the fat lady moved noisily aside on the other side of the wall, revealing a big dog, which came storming in, jumping at Harry and nearly burying him under its weight, as he pushed him back over to the floor and started to lick his face with obvious enthusiasm.

"Isn't that Si...Snuffles?" Ron asked the obvious.

In the meantime, Harry was trying to push the bear like dog off him, so that he could get up again. In vain, he pushed and pulled for a while on the fuzzy fur. His grinning and giggling did take out much of the weightiness out of his actions though. In the end, he got the Animagus off him anyway and climbed back on his feet, his hand still resting on the head of the dog. Only then did he see the second person that stood by the entrance, and watched the scene with a slight grin.

Ron followed his glance and recognized the man in the worn robe right away.

"Professor Lupin. You're here too?" he faked surprise.

The still smiling man made a dismissing gesture. "Please cut the 'professor' and call me by my first name. I'm not your teacher anymore.

"All right," Ron confirmed in a stretched voice.

"Prof…ahem, I mean Remus," Hermoine said. "What are the two of you doing here in Hogwarts?"

'Leave it to Hermoine, to evade a lie, or even an obfuscation and still to ask the right question,' Harry thought. Neither his Godfather, nor the werewolf needed to know, that Ron and he had been out of their dormitories after curfew and had eavesdropped on Snape and Sirius.

But at Hermoine's question, Lupin's smile vanished and the big dog wailed deep in his throat. Harry scowled worriedly and Lupin massaged tiredly the bridge of his nose with thumb and forefinger.

"Dumbledore has sent for us. The times have gotten more difficult and the signs for the dark side are…worrisome. Dumbledore is gathering his most important men to discuss our further tactics."

The big dog had been observing his friend and now turned his massive head to the stairs leading to the dormitories at first and then lifted his snout to sniff the air, while cocking his ears slightly. Only after he had seemingly approved of the security of the room, and their being alone, did he morph into his human form.

"Something needs to be done, and fast," he said somberly. "Voldemort is getting stronger with each day and his followers are getting more numerous. Many who had been unstable before, are changing over to the dark side completely."

At the last words of his Godfather, the image of Snape came back in Harry's memories, as the potion master was holding his forearm, murmuring that he didn't need Dumbledore. With a slight shake of his head he chased those thoughts away once more. The situation seemed worse than they had thought and Snape and his threats or his inner demons were not important nor did they interest Harry very much.

"And does Dumbledore have a plan?" Hermoine asked.

Lupin sighed heavily. That's the worst of all. Even him seems to be at the end of his wits. That's why he has called for a meeting with the heads of the order. We'll exchange our knowledge and ideas and will hopefully find a new strategy."

A heavy silence fell upon the room for a couple of minutes, before Sirius cleared his throat. "But this all is no reason, why you three should miss your breakfast. Best you continue as usual and don't raise any suspicion. Some of the other kids here have Deatheater parents. It's better to be cautious and not to trust anybody."

The three teenagers nodded still a bit worriedly, but they complied and started to walk off to the great Salon.

                                                             T.B.C.


	4. Potions class from hell

Chapter three:

Potions class from hell 

__

Dumbledore made an announcement at breakfast,  that a rabid werewolf had apparently been sighted in the forbidden forest and that he had, therefore, called for the help of Remus Lupin, who would be searching for the beast together with Hagrid. Since Lupin was already a werewolf, he would not be changed by a bite, but Dumbledore cautioned everyone with a somber expression, not to go near the forbidden forest, and not to leave the safety of the school, especially at full moon.

Harry had to admit that the excuse was pretty good,. This way, there wouldn't be any excitement or questions, as to why the former teacher was here. Sirius would show like a normal dog anyway and not raise any suspicion.

His worries diminished a bit while eating. He was certain that he would be informed about the new plans of the order, if he wouldn't even be able to attend the meeting. He did have a tight connection to Voldemort after all and had even fought him on several occasions.

His good mood vanished though, as he was walking to the next class together with his friends. Potions with Snape.

Ron and he had managed to finish their homework the previous night, not without some trouble and a writing, which had been growing bigger and bigger towards the end of the essay. If he was honest to himself, he wouldn't be surprised to get a bad rating for it, only because of the terrible handwriting. Snape was a stick-up-his-ass orderly-loving fanatic, and essays, which weren't written with care seldom got any decent grades. Hermoine had, when she had seen their work, predicted, that they may even get a straight, fat F for it, knowing about Snape's moods.

Ron and he had only shrugged her worries away. They had finished to write a quite decent essay in the end, they thought, as much as it was possible for such a boring topic, and there was nothing to fault it for, except for the slight cheating with the length. 

All right. If Harry was honest, both Ron and him had been too tired and hungry to brood another hour over the essay. It wasn't the first time they had done something like this, and neither him nor Ron had Hermoine's ambitions to be best at every subject and get good marks everywhere. They didn't get sick over bad grades they may be getting in Potions. They could perfectly live with a four or five for this essay.

As they entered the classroom now, Snape was nowhere to be seen. Harry sat down at his customary place, as well as the other students strode purposefully to theirs. Even though it was highly unusual that Snape was late for class, no one was suicidal enough not to be sitting orderly at his desk, when he came in. His mood had steadily gotten worse lately.

Harry had just sat down, as the teacher practically swept into the room like a giant, menacing shadow. Harry sometimes wondered how the man had managed to acquire this feature. He sometimes reminded Harry of a human Dementor. Harry shuddered slightly at the thought of those terrible creatures. But there was no way a Dementor could be capable to show such a bitter, hateful face, as Snape was displaying right now.

"Homework on my desk, right now," he growled, while he was walking along the students' tables to his desk. And instantaneously, the students rose intimidatedly from their banks, to deposit their essays on Snape's Desk.

"Isn't he a real joy this morning?" Ron whispered behind the palm of his hand. Harry chuckled.

"Twenty points from Gryffindor for unasked talking in class," Snape's voice cut through the room immediately.

Harry threw Ron an exasperated smile, which Ron answered with a shrug and rolling eyes.

They brought their essays to Snape's desk after all the others did, almost throwing them on top of the ones already lying there. When they returned to their places though, they got greeted by a reproachful glare of Hermoine.

"You will be brewing the invisible potion, which we have been studying last week in theory." Snape let his glance sweep over his class and his expression darkened even more, if that was even remotely possible. 

Harry was used to Snape's usually cold stares. If he ever showed any emotion at all, it was usually rage or hate. But now, Harry could swear that he saw unhidden abhorrence in those black eyes. "And I want you to brew this potion by heart. It's time that you learn to pay attention in class."

Every student was staring at their teacher with unbelieving horror. Alright. Everyone but Hermoine and Harry thought to hear a terrified yelp from Neville's direction. Brewing a potion by heart they had only read about once, was not only impossible, it was plainly dangerous. They had at least have to be given time to study the ingredients once more. Otherwise the risks were too enormous. Everyone knew that and Harry couldn't believe that the Headmaster would agree to what the potions master now asked of them.

"Ahem…Professor?" Malfoy interjected hesitantly.

"Twenty points from Slytherin," Snape cut him off harshly. Malfoy jumped a little in his seat, staring shocked at the teacher.

Harry was certain that the dull noise he thought to have heard, was his jaw, as it hit the ground. Never before had Snape taken points off his own house for unasked questioning. Quite the contrary. And then he had done so to Draco Malfoy, Slytherin's golden boy, who could usually get away with everything in potions.

As Harry saw all the incredulous gapes directed at the teacher, he figured that the others were as surprised as he was. Snape turned his attention away from the students and grabbed the first essay off the top of the pile, while he reached for a quill and a bottle with - as everyone knew - red ink in it. He unrolled the parchment in his hands, but before starting to read, his eyes wandered back to the still frozen students.

"If I remember correctly, we are studying potions here, and not transfiguration. As much as I would welcome if some of you would transform your neighbors into the ingredients of the potion, it would only leave me to deal with some hysterical parents."

Catching the not so subtle wink, the students began to get off their seats and move to the shelves at the sidewall where the standard ingredients were stored. Harry though, had his gaze glued curiously upon the parchment in Snape's hand. Since he had delivered his essay after all the others, he could be pretty certain that it was his work, Snape was reading now. Judging by Snape's mood today, Hermoine's prediction of a bad rating was getting more and more probable.

Snape lowered his eyes to glance disgruntled at its beginning, before he unrolled the parchment the whole way and, with narrowed eyes, wrote something at its bottom.

"Potter!" 

Immediately all the students stopped, where they just stood and turned their interest to Harry. Snape lifted the parchment in the air in front of his face.

"Failed and twenty points deduction for a unreasonable homework," he commented dryly.

For the second time within five minutes, Harry found himself speechless. Ron however was the angrier for that matter. "You can't do that! You didn't even read the essay. And twenty points is way too much, anyway!"

Snape gifted Ron with a look, as if the boy were nothing but an especially disgusting insect. Demonstratively, he reached for the next parchment, checking the name shortly, before scribbling something on its lower end with his red ink.

"Ron Weasley; failed and forty points deduct for a unreasonable homework." This time, Ron swallowed a indignant answer and stared at the teacher, as flabbergasted as Harry.

"And if you don't want to lose any more points, I suggest that you get up from your seats and start to brew the potion."

When they arrived at the shelves, they were both literarily fuming, and Ron's face looked as if it had entered a competition with his hair, so flushing red it was.

"I warned you," Hermoine hissed, as they approached her.

"Miss Granger," Snape's voice again cut through the room. Like before, everybody stopped their actions and looked up at Hermoine. But where before curiosity had been in the faces, now they were filled only with compassion. At least from the Gryffindors. The Slytherins were watching her with restrained curiosity.

Hermoine bit her lower lip nervously and met the professor's gaze. Snape was holding two parchments now, and Hermoine exhaled in relief. Her essay was perfect like all her work, even if she would probably not get any points due to the mood Snape was in. But that was something she had certainly gotten used to in the meantime, since Gryffindors rarely got any acknowledgement in potions, no matter how good their work was. But at least he didn't seem to have heard her talk, which was already a good thing.

"I do believe, Miss Granger, that I asked for an essay of the length of the parchment that I handed out. So can you tell me, why yours is two parchments long? You always pretend to be so intelligent. Why is it then, that you're not able to tell one from two parchments? Failed and fifty points deduction for Gryffindor."

Hermoine's mouth dropped and shut a couple of times, much like a fish out of the water, gasping for oxygen, but no sound left her throat. Her eyes were wide in unbelieving shock and Harry truly feared that she would pass out any minute.

She finally was able to vocalize something, which sounded like a yapped "what?", before her mouth shut close in a tight line and her eyes hardened.

"But that…that's unfair," she finally protested.

Snape didn't let her furious outburst get to him and only sneered at her. "Another fifty points deduction for Gryffindor."

That announcement stole every further argument from Hermoine, and this time, Harry was certain, that she would pass out right away. She couldn't have looked more devastated, if someone would have told her that earth was flat, all the books in the world destroyed and she last in class. She stood there, shaking slightly in anger about this monumental injustice and couldn't take her eyes off the potions master who was already studying the next parchment.

Most students went right back to work, collecting ingredients. Snape was in his worst mood ever and everybody tried to do his best to act invisible. Not even the Slytherins were safe today, if Snape got notice of them.

Harry and Ron stepped forward and grabbed the still gawking Hermoine by her arms, pulling her back to the shelves. "Don't get worked out about it Moine," Ron whispered.

The redhead had tried to talk so quietly, that Snape wouldn't hear him, but as soon as the words had left his mouth, a big enormous bang shook the whole room.

The already nervous students jumped back and a few of the girls yelped in surprise.

All eyes darted to the origin of the noise.

Snape was still sitting on his chair, his eyes lowered, so that his lanky hair was hiding his face but his desk lay turned over on his side, parchments, quills, books and the inkbottle were strewn wildly across the stone floor in front of the desk. The inkbottle was lying on its side and the red of its content was spreading slowly over one of the essays.

Slowly, like in slow motion, Snape lifted his head and his eyes were burning with pure hatred.

Watchfully and menacing he pushed off his chair. His eyes were narrowed and his nostrils flared, as he tried to keep control of himself.

"All essays failed and one hundred points deduct from both houses, Gryffindor and Slytherin. Class dismissed."

Nobody hesitated for one single second to hurry to their desks to get their things and leave the room as fast as possible. And not one dared to make the smallest protesting sound.

Only after having walked a few meters away from the place of horror, Harry dared to breath freely again.

"Dear Jesus," Hermoine moaned and let her back collapse against the brick wall in the corridor. "That was…that was…"

"That was the worst potions class ever," Ron finished her sentence.

"What the hell is wrong with Snape? He's always been a nasty git, but this here…," Harry said.

"He can't do this. My essay was perfect," Hermoine moaned again.

"Snape has finally lost it," Ron decided.

"And we're not going to simply accept it. Come on, let's go talk to the Headmaster," Harry said.

**************

T.B.C.


	5. Dumbledore's worries

Authors rambling: After reading book five, it cost me quite an effort, to continue translating this fic. Why, you'll find out in chapter 27. But I told myself to do it anyway, at least until then and wait up, if anyone is going to lynch me then :-P

Since my very good friend Niara is at the moment understandably quite busy, Slytherin Silver Snake took over the beta reading job for now. Thank you both so much for spending your precious free time with this mistake loaded fic of mine.

Chapter 4: 

_Dumbledores worries: _

Arriving at the gargoyle, which was guarding the moving staircase, Harry and his friends instantly found out that they were not the only ones who had found their way there. 

Nearly the complete class of fifth year Gryffindors had assembled in the passage before Dumbledore's office and Harry could even spot Draco Malfoy with five other Slytherins, standing a bit to one side and doing their best to stare spitefully at the Gryffindors. They did fail miserably to transpire the usual sneer though, since they were too busy trying to hide their evident concern. No wonder, Harry thought. Snape may be Slytherin's Head of House, but the fact that he had deducted 120 points from them was not easy to digest and they would not simply accept it, Snape or not. 

To the contrary, the faces of the Gryffindors showed nothing but open indignation. They all stood in small groups discussing, underpinning their loud words of complaint with wild gesticulating. 

But as Harry and his friends drew near and the other students became aware of them, the discussions died immediately and Neville hurried over to them. 

"Do you know the password?" 

"Yes," Harry answered. "If Dumbledore didn't change in the last month, then I do. Three weeks ago, he made me come up, because he was worried about my security."

Neville nodded with understanding and the rest of the Gryffindors stepped aside, opening an aisle, to let Harry, Hermoine and Ron get access to the gargoyle. 

"I think it would be better, if we didn't all go to the Headmaster," Lavender Brown threw in. "A small group would probably get more results and look less like an invasion."

A snorted, dismayed laughter came from the direction of the Slytherins. 

"Then best send Potter. The old man eats from the palm of his hand anyway. Our golden Griffindork will surely convince him to give us our house points back." Draco's voice and expression were depreciating and poisonous, as he regarded the Gryffindor high nosed, his arms crossed over his chest. 

An intense silence fell over the group and all eyes moved to Harry. He knew only too well that the headmaster had let him get away with quite a lot already. But only a few of the other pupils knew that Dumbledore knew of all the experience he had already gathered in the fight against the dark side. He had been opposed and risked much in his short life, for he was on the top priority-list of people who Voldemort wanted to see dead. Therefore he got to know secrets and things, which the other students had no idea of. It was probably not because of the Headmaster's preference towards him, like the Slytherins thought, but to protect the other students. Letting them stay away from the grisly side of the fast approaching war. 

Harry didn't have that luxury. He was at risk and had to be able to defend himself if need be, and thus he got entrusted, but also burdened, with more details. Harry would have switched places with the other students immediately because his unwanted celebrity came along with many sorrows and dangers. 

Contrary to the others, he could not just be an ordinary child any longer, with worries not going beyond the next school test or date with girls. 

"Yeah, and Harry has already fought You-Know-Who and survived, while you have pretended to be half-dead after getting no more than a scratch from a Hippogriff," Ron hissed heatedly at Draco. 

The blond Slytherin let out a howl of rage and moved hastily towards the Gryffindors. Harry, recognizing the approaching fight, quickly turned around to face the gargoyle. "Lollipop!" he called and the large statue jumped to the side instantly, revealing the rotary stairs to Dumbledores office. 

Harry grabbed Ron, who was expecting Draco with clenched fists and fire in his eyes, dragging his friend along through the opening. Hermione followed them rapidly and the rest of the Gryffindors blocked Draco until the gargoyle had moved back to its old place, blocking the entrance effectively. 

Thankfully, Ron didn't seem too upset about the missed fight with Draco, since he was grinning broadly. "Well done for that Slytherin rat that he's not going to come and see the Headmaster. He can scream and shout until he's green in the face for all I care." Ron was quiet for a while until he suddenly giggled out loud. "He'd fit even better into his house then."

Harry laughed and turned to look at his still giggling friend. Even Hermione was grinning madly.

When they reached the upper end of the stairs and faced the big oak door, leading to Dumbledores office, their good mood vanished at once and they remembered why they had come here in the first place. Harry knocked on the door, which the old Headmaster opened shortly after. He looked down at them with questioning benevolent and sparkling eyes. Hermione seemed to be almost as indignant as she had been in the dungeons.

"What's the honour of your visit, children?" the headmaster asked, while he stepped aside and waved them into the room. "Come on in and have a seat. Would you like some tea? I have something here that you just have to try out."

Harry and his friends nodded politely, entering the big, circular room that was stuffed with books and all kind of knickknacks on shelves, filling almost the entire wall. 

Dumbledore led them to a blue flower-printed and cosy looking couch with a tea table, sitting by the window to the left of Dumbledores desk.

The headmaster then left through a small door into an adjoining room only to come back a minute later. He had his wand directed at a tableau, which was floating behind him, like a dog on a leash and which was carrying a colourful tea can as well as four mugs.

With a swing of his wand, the old wizard let the tableau sink onto the small tea table and then pointed it to the carpet in front of the tea table, facing the couch.

"Aparere sedile."

Instantly the green, red and golden dragons and phoenixes woven into the carpet moved aside and an easy chair, matching the couch, grew right out of the floor. Dumbledore sank into it and reached for the beautifully painted tea can and filled the mugs with a steaming, dark fluid. 

"It's an old family recipe. My great grandfather was a real master in tea brewing," he announced merrily.

It seemed kind or absurd to imagine the great grandfather of a man who was 150 years of age, but the three kids didn't comment on it. They each took a mug, sipping on the so-called tea with a hint of suspicion.

After hesitating at first, Harry had to admit that the taste of the brew was pretty peculiar, yet not bad. The tea smelled like cinnamon, but while drinking it Harry had rather the impression of vanilla, yet with a smooth fruity aftertaste.

"Strawberry?" asked Hermione, after taking a tentative sip herself.

"No way. It's chocolate," Ron protested resolutely.

Dumbledore's eyes sparkled as he smiled happily. "This tea is changing aroma all the time. It's a true adventure each time. Almost like Berty Botts beans in every flavour, with the only difference that you'll never get a taste you don't like with this tea. So if someone doesn't like chocolate for example, he will never get that taste, even though somebody else who does like it can very well get that aroma.

Harry cleared his throat to get Dumbledore's attention and put his mug carefully back down on the table. As fascinating as this tea may be, they were here for another reason. "Professor Dumbledore. "We -- meaning our class, has a problem."

Intrigued, Dumbledore raised one eyebrow, leaning back against his easy chair. "What problem could possibly concern the whole class?"

"Snape…I mean Professor Snape," Hermione shot forward. "He was terrible during class today."

The Headmaster could not stop the low chuckle escaping his throat. "I believe that this is hardly an unusual occurrence."

"This time it was different though. He took a whole 280 points from Gryffindor. And this was without any provocation or any reason at all."

"He let mine and Harry's essays fail without even looking at them, and Hermione's failed as well, only because it was longer than he had asked," Ron fell in.

"And when we made only the slightest noise, he tossed over his desk and chased us out of the dungeons," Hermione added.

"He even took 120 points off Slytherin," Harry concluded.

The old wizards expression had visibly darkened during their story. The twinkle in his eyes had dimmed and he sank in on himself, staring sadly forward.

After a while, Dumbledore put his mug slowly back on the table and rose silently to his feet. He moved over to the big window, staring absently outside, his back turned to the teenagers.

"I will, of course, give you and the Slytherins the points back and I'll also have a talk with Severus about this matter. I promise that this will not repeat itself. You can let the others know about that."

The Headmaster's voice, for once, didn't carry the usual cheerfulness and slight malice but sounded sad and broken.

Harry exchanged a worried glance with Ron and Hermione. "What's wrong, Headmaster?"

Dumbledore sighed deeply but he didn't turn around, still hefting his gaze somewhere outside the window. "I think that I misjudged some things, that's all."

"Misjudged?" Ron echoed.

"Deep down, Severus is not a bad person, you know," Dumbledore said absently. "He's just been too hard on himself. Life has not been gentle to him and he learned to survive by being strong and never to bend nor budge. He never learned a different way to cope with it all. He had practically sucked in his mother milk, to be proud and hold his head high. It has always been like this, even in school."

The Headmaster sighed before continuing. "After the 'accident' with Lupin it was exactly this pride that had led him to Voldemort. He had been too self-confident and ambitious for his own good, just as most Slytherins are in fact. Men like Severus have been raised to dominate and to never show any weakness under any circumstance. By submitting to Voldemort, Severus had been granted a power and sense of satisfaction and justice, which I denied him. He had been terribly shaken after the incident with the Shrieking Shack, and when I played it all down I made him a victim a second time. Turning away from Voldemort meant for Severus to give up this power, his self-esteem and a whole lot of his pride. He has been willing to knowingly degrade himself in front of others, especially the Ministry. This has cleaved a large scar in Severus' soul and his attitude today is not much more than a tool to protect himself, and to keep and feel what he has left of his pride. All else would be a sign of weakness, which had been refused and thought unthinkable for all his life."

He finally turned around, looking at the three students intently. "Don't misunderstand me. I trust him with my life and he has done so much for our cause without ever getting much in return. Unfortunately I fear that this is part of the problem. He is perfectly aware that it's only me who honestly wants to have him here. All the others he's tolerated at best. Even in my case he thinks that I favour his acting as a spy over his person. He's been needed but not wanted. Neither from the one side nor from the other. The ministry would probably lock him away in Azkaban in a heartbeat, if it weren't for me and Hogwarts, and he's perfectly aware of this too. Of course, Voldemort also using him and his knowledge, but contrary to our side, there he gets power as recompense. And now it's looking as if Voldemort is winning the war. This is basically ripping Severus apart. Part of him fights the temptation of the dark side, when another part of him is more than insecure..." Again the Headmaster made a thoughtful pause before he continued. "The dark side and its promise for fame and power is strong, and when someone was once on it's side this person will have to struggle for all their life. Power over others is a strong feeling which can be quite addictive. The dark side's calling is strong, and the stronger Voldemort is becoming, the stronger is Severus urge for justice. His justice, which can give him back what he lost, the only thing he ever possessed, his dignity."

The three friends had been listening part fearful, part fascinated.

"You want to tell by that that Snape will go back to Voldemort, Sir?" Harry asked.

Dumbledore took a deep breath. "I sincerely hope that it will not come to that. I once vouched for him at court and have thus saved his life. I have given him a job and a reason to go on, and that's why he, after his own understanding of things, owes me. In reality I owe him just as much however, but he always weighted his dept greater than mine. This is what is keeping him on our side. You have to know that his sense of honour is as strong as his pride. 

I just hope that it will be enough, so that he will not act against my will."

"And what if he does that anyway?" Hermione asked doubtful.

Dumbledore smiled painfully. "Then that would be prove that I'm a miserable judge of character and I would have to hand him over to the ministry."

Harry swallowed hard. It was a common believe that the headmaster was too trusting. Dumbledore had always blindly trusted Snape and Harry didn't dare to imagine what it would take to make the old wizard doubt the potions masters loyalty himself. Unwilling, he thought about the previous scene he had witnessed between Snape and Sirius.

"Professor Dumbledore…" he hesitated. Should he really talk about this? But it was vital that Dumbledore held all available information if Snape was at risk to cross over again. The Potions Master had always been an angry, bitter man, but Harry preferred to get points taken by him than being at the receiving end of one of the Unforgivable curses. Not to mention that it would break Dumbledore's heart if Snape would really betray them. Harry had never understood why, but the old wizard really seemed to care a big deal about Snape.

"Yes, Harry?" Dumbledore urged gently.

Harry exchanged a meaningful look with Ron, before he took a deep breath and started to talk. "Ron and I have eavesdropped on Snape, as he threatened Sirius."

Dumbledore nodded attentively. "Yes, Sirius has told me about this encounter. Severus seemed to be quite…ahem…bitter, he said."

Which had to be the understatement of the Century, Harry thought, but he was glad that the headmaster didn't comment on the fact that Ron and he had been out after curfew. Because if Sirius had told him about the fight, then Dumbledore was aware that this had happened in the middle of the night.

"That's not all," he continued. "After Sirius had left him, Snape cradled his left forearm, saying that he didn't need you, Sir. And, even though I don't know if it's important, but he called Voldemort the Dark Lord in a very admiring voice."

After hearing this, Dumbledore went to his desk and let himself fall heavily into his chair, making it groan under the sudden weight. The Headmaster closed his eyes briefly as if to gather some inner strength. Then he looked back over to the three teenagers. "Please go back now and tell the others that they are getting the taken points back. I will send for Severus right away. There are some things I will need to discuss with him.

Harry and his friends nodded worriedly and left the office silently.

**********************

T.B.C.


	6. On the edge

Chapter 5

_On the edge:_

For the rest of the day, Harry and his friends failed to see Snape – the Potions Master didn't even show up for dinner in the Great Hall, and his place at the end of the staff-table remained empty.

Harry would be lying if he said that he regretted this, and Ron had even hoped forthrightly that Dumbledore had put the Potions Master in his place, that the greasy-haired git would not show his overly big nose again anytime soon.

Instead, there was another set of plates on the table to Dumbledore's left, behind which Remus Lupin was seated. His good nature was all too apparent in his smile. Under the table, besides Lupin's legs, rested a large black dog. It's massive head was resting on his crossed front paws, looking over the crowd of students with moderate interest.

Most students didn't pay any particular interest in the brown-haired man, but some of them, especially from the Slytherin corner of the room, were gifting him with hateful glares. The former teacher was a werewolf, this was for many people reason enough to fear and hate him. That fact was also the reason why Lupin didn't teach anymore. Another evil, Harry thought, for which Snape was responsible. Had the potions master not 'accidentally' let slip information about Lupin's condition, the latter would certainly stayed on his teaching position.

Still, to Harry's relief there were also some friendly faces between the students who seemed to be happy to see the former teacher, who in his days had been quite popular.

The rustle of many wings could be heard in the air above them, causing everybody look up at once. Through a big open window, high up in the enchanted ceiling, a brown and white swarm of owls flew in, parting into smaller numbers as soon as they had entered the great hall. Some of the carrier birds looped around the ceiling, searching for the recipients of the letters and packages they carried. Once spotted, the owls landed on the table in front of the person their mail was addressed to.

To Harry's surprise, a mysterious brown owl landed in front of him on the tabletop, almost tippling over his mug of pumpkin juice. Harry grabbed his mug at the last moment, holding it upright. The owl ruffled its feathers and held up one of its talons, on which a minute roll of parchment was attached.

After getting over his surprise, Harry gently unbound the letter from the owl's leg; the animal instantly spreading its wings and pushing off the table, flying away as soon as it had delivered it's letter.

"Who is the letter from?" Hermione asked curiously.

"Yeah, right," added Ron. "The only ones you usually get mail from are sitting at, or are under, the table up there."

Harry nonchalantly shrugged his shoulders, ripping open the parchment. It was a short note, as the size of the parchment had hinted, but he recognized the writing right away.

_Dear Harry,_

_Please meet Remus and I tonight at eight at the Astronomy Tower, and bring Ron and Hermione along. There is something important that we have to tell you._

_S._

****************

The three friends could hardly wait to know the important news, and the hours until their meeting with Sirius seemed to take forever. Eventually, it reached eight O'clock and Harry, Ron and Hermione were climbing the narrow spiralling stairs up the High Tower.

They reached the thick weathered oak door that lead to the Astronomy room and pushed it open, then entered the circular room, which was filled with models of stars, maps that hung on the walls and other strange looking instruments that gave them insights into the movements of space.

In front of the great windowless opening in the wall, right besides the five meter tall telescope stood Remus Lupin. Sirius flanked the brown-haired man in his Animagus form.

As soon as they had completely entered the room, Remus moved over to them, smiling kindly before he pointed his wand at the door, securing it with a locking charm.

"I remember that this room was often frequented by teenagers whose hormones were in overdrive, and we don't want to be disturbed, do we?" he said, shrugging his shoulders as he explained himself.

Only after being sure the door was securely locked did Sirius transform back into his human form, walking over to them as soon as he had changed.

"What's going on? What is so important that you think it's this urgent?" Harry spurted out.

Sirius' eyes darkened slightly. "We wanted to warn the three of you; especially you, Harry. You are in grave danger."

Harry could see the worry in his godfather's eyes. This news, which seemed to have upset Sirius so much, didn't really affect him. With a trace of bitterness he thought of how crazy his life must be, if such a warning didn't scare him anymore. Being in danger had unfortunately become a morbid constancy in his short life.

"And who would it be this time? Voldemort again?" he sighed, slightly annoyed. 

Ron could not stifle a chuckle and even Sirius and Lupin smiled weakly at his quite uninterested answer. But their amusement disappeared as fast as it had come.

"No, this time it's not Voldemort, but Snape," Lupin sighed.

"Snape?" Hermione sounded confused.

He was thinking about this as Ron snapped his fingers, the redhead's face one of satisfaction that he had been right all along. "I've always known it. The greasy Git is evil after all.

Harry, however, was more than sceptic. "Snape? You're sure? As far as I know, he's just a dog that barks but doesn't bite." But before the last words left his mouth, he remembered Dumbledore's worried speech about the potions master, and a bad feeling nested in the pit of his stomach.

Remus shook his head regretfully. "That's always been the case so far. Snape owes Dumbledore as much as Dumbledore owes him, but he has changed significantly as of recently. He's always been a neurotic sort, and Dumbledore has told us that he's rarely getting any sleep anymore. He shows not the slightest chance of tolerance towards Sirius any longer . What's more, Sirius and I have overheard him this morning, fighting with the Headmaster."

"It was a pretty nasty fight, actually," Sirius agreed. "So far, the Headmaster had always known how to get through to Snape and bypass that thick scull of his, and the poison-stirrer had always bowed back when Dumbledore told him to. However, this time he had left the Headmaster's office screaming and cursing loudly. As Snape crossed us on the stairway he yelled at us. He told us that it was exactly like back then with the Marauders, that Dumbledore was favouring his beloved Gryffindors. He then said that he would do something about it this time around, that this time Dumbledore's prized ones would pay for ridiculing him."

"What did he mean by that?" Hermione asked.

The Animagus exchanged a short glance with Lupin before the werewolf addressed them again. "You do know what happened in the Shrieking Shack, back when we were in our fifth year, right?" 

They all nodded simultaneously as Lupin bowed his head, "It was a stupid, immature prank." 

Sirius shot his friend a look of anger and hurt, but Lupin ignored it as the taller wizard growled. "He deserved it. The only stupid thing about it has been to involve you into the affair."

Lupin sadly shook his head. "He could have died, Sirius. No matter how much he always got on your nerves, I doubt that you would have been able to live with that. Putting this aside, Severus had gotten the scare of his life back then and had convinced himself that all of us would be sent to Azkaban, or at least be expelled from school for attempted murder, which in his eyes was exactly what we had been planning to do. Instead, Dumbledore gave us another chance and the only thing that had happened to Sirius was a couple of detentions. Not even any points had been deducted from our house, because Dumbledore didn't want to tell the rest of the staff why he had taken them."

The werewolf then sighed before continuing. "I guess that Dumbledore wanted to protect me from the Ministry, but his actions hit Severus very hard. Worsening the whole situation even further, Dumbledore made him promise not to tell anybody about my secret. Sirius was forced to apologize to him then and all of it was to be forgotten after that. Back then, I have no doubts that Dumbledore had saved my life, but it had made Severus even bitterer. His hate about this injustice has accumulated over the years. I'm afraid that whatever happened this morning between the two of them was the straw that broke the camels back."

*************************

The following day, the three friends were paying special attention to Snape. Remus and Sirius' warning had made them cautious, and the two former Marauders observation of the potions master seemed entirely accurate with Dumbledore's.  They had paid the Headmaster a visit this morning, telling him about their worries, but Dumbledore had only seemed terribly sad and said that he was keeping a close eye on Snape. But he told them that he didn't dare to corner or put too much pressure on the Potions Master right now, or he would definitely loose him for good.

Harry didn't like to think about this particular conversation. Never before had he seen the Headmaster so weighted down. He had taken their worries to heart, but he had said that he had a debt towards Snape, that he wouldn't give him up without a fight. Dumbledore had promised him and his friends that he would protect them, if it became necessary.

After that conversation, they didn't see anything of the Potions Master for the next two days. Snape had not even came to the meals in the Great Hall, and rumours quickly swept through the castle. Snape was stylishly arriving to his classes late all the time, and once he showed up he seemed completely disinterested about the class, being only somewhat more than catatonic.

Harry had some troubling picturing this as he sat himself on his stool in the Potions classroom in the dungeons, ready for his class. He still had to wait for a whole fifteen minutes before Snape stalked into the room, his robes, as they always did, billowing out behind him.

"Read something in your books," the Potions Master ordered coldly, not even casting them one suspicious glance. He just moved around his table and sat in his chair, leaning back against the backboard. He stared blankly at the wall, as if he was trying to tune out everything that was going on about him, withdrawing into his own thoughts.

The students exchanged some confused looks before they got their books reluctantly from their bags, opened them and pretended to read. Their eyes continually darted from their books to Snape, as if they were expecting him to explode on them any given minute. Yet that didn't happen. He just sat there, ignoring them completely.

The class eventually came to its end, but the potions master still didn't stir. Not even when the class was long over. Nevertheless, no one dared to speak up to make the professor aware that the lesson had finished. Everyone was exchanging nervous looks, fidgeting uncomfortably on their chairs. They were still sitting on their desks fifteen minutes later, until Hermione couldn't take it anymore.

"Ahem…Professor?" she piped up.

Snape looked up and fixed her with an expressionless stare, still not saying anything.

"Ahem…the class, Sir," Hermione stuttered. "It's over…"

Everybody looked from Hermione to the Professor, expecting that explosion would surely occur this time. Instead, the potions master gestured in dismissive annoyance to the door. "If that's the case, then why are you still here? Get lost."

As soon as they had exited the classroom, Harry and Hermione stared at one another in silent surprise. "What was that all about?"

Ron, though, seemed not to waste any time in marvelling over the mystery of their latest Potions class. "He hasn't given us any homework," he cheered enthusiastically, as if he'd just witnessed a miracle.

This strange and miraculous occurrence would be proven not to be a unique event in the days to come. It looked as if Snape was not giving any homework or assignments anymore. He let the classes roll over him without any interest, nor did he interact with his students. Of course, those students were silently cheering and felt no interest in protesting about the changes that had taken place. That is, apart from Hermione, who was really offended that they weren't learning anything through this inefficient method of teaching. 

Harry was not living in dreamland. Sooner or later, Dumbledore would have to do something about the negligent Potions Master. This was a school after all, but for the moment the Headmaster seemed to hold back from interfering with Snape's behaviour.

The Potions Master started to attend meals once again, but there also he didn't show much interest in anything and spent the time just brooding over his plate. Instead of his usual sneers and glares, there was something else to be read in his face, some kind of arrogant boredom. More and more, Snape's face showed something that Harry had seen before. It was the same arrogant expression that Lucius Malfoy always seemed to have cemented on his face.

******************

T.B.C.


	7. Avada Kedavra 1

Chapter 6:

_Avada Kedavra:_

__

One week later, not much had changed about Snape's behaviour. Ron was immensely enjoying the unusual respite from the hated teacher. Hermione, on the other hand, was often found to be in the library, angrily brooding and catching up on the stuff the professor failed to teach them.

Harry felt unsettled with the whole situation. He remembered Sirius' warning all too clearly. Oh, he wasn't really worried about his own safety; often enough he had accused Snape of multiple evil doings and each time they had proven to be false accusations. In fact, the only threat he felt coming from the man was the amalgamated possibilities of being yelled at, having points deducted and getting a detention. What bothered him more was if they should lose Snape to the dark side once again. No matter what a sorry excuse for a human being the man was, the bad things people said about him, Snape was nevertheless a talented wizard and Potions Master. Foremost, he had valuable information about the Order and Dumbledore's plans, which would prove catastrophic in Voldemort's hands.

All his fears proved to be underestimated, one week after the horrendous potions class. He was in the Great Hall, seated at the Gryffindor table.

Harry could not exactly tell what had provoked him into looking up at the teachers' table, but he found himself observing how Snape was heatedly discussing something with the Headmaster. Dumbledore seemed to be trying to remain calm, whereas Snape looked like he was about to go ballistic. The Potions Master was telling the older wizard something, his face pulled into an angry grimace. Harry would have loved to hear what it was all about, but the words of the two were drowned out by the constant chatting and clattering of silverware that filled the great hall.

His gaze wandered to the other teachers, who were following the dispute with worried faces. Those professors, sitting at the same table, would without any doubt have heard all that was being said. Only Snuffles lay on the ground beneath the table, lapping up some water from a bowl, not showing any interest in the commotion above him.

Suddenly, Snape shot up from his chair with such force that it fell backwards, his angry gaze still on the Headmaster. It was only then that the great dog lifted his head to pay attention. Simultaneously, the voices of the students died and the clattering noise of the silverware and plates quickly faded away. The racket of the falling chair had caught everyone's attention and all eyes were glued to the head table.

Through the sudden silence it was perfectly audible; Snape was yelling at Dumbledore.

"I will not let you treat me this way anymore, Headmaster. You can't order me around!"

"Can't we speak about this another time, Severus?" Dumbledore replied in a placating voice, looking uncomfortable. "This is hardly the place for this kind of discussion."

But Snape wouldn't hear any of it. His face mutated more and more into a hateful grimace. "You certainly don't want your precious, 'innocent' children to hear any of this? But I don't care if they see this or not. I will no longer let myself be used, humiliated and ordered around by you. Do I make myself clear?"

A loud growl attracted the Potion Master's attention away from the headmaster. Harry could spot through the space under the table that 'Snuffles' had closed up on Snape, threatening him with bared fangs.

"Get lost, you flee ridden beast," Snape quietly hissed towards the dog, who didn't back down but took another step towards the Potions Master, barking a warning.

Snape pulled his wand out, pointing it at the Animagus. "Get lost, I said."

At this moment, Dumbledore rose from the table. "Snuffles, lay back. Severus, leave the dog alone."

"Dog?" Snape asked angrily. He then laughed mirthlessly. "It's a dear old dog, that is." He faced the Animagus again with his wand. "Repercuti conditio humana!" A white and blue sparkling stream left his wand and hit the dog, which instantly started to change, grow and morph into a human being.

A surprised, collective gasp went through the rows of students and to his right, Ron whispered: "That idiot's blown Sirius' cover."

Before Harry had time to think about the possible implications of this revelation, Sirius had already recovered from his surprise. He jumped forward and grabbed Snape by the collar.

"You filthy, mean…"

"ENOUGH!" Dumbledore called out. The Headmaster stepped between the two of them and separated them with a strength that belied his old appearance.

"Sirius, back down. And you, Severus, put your wand away. NOW!"

Still visibly angry, Sirius took a step back. Snape, however, refused to lower his wand for even a second.

"Severus, you either put it away or I will take it from you." Dumbledore's voice was low but held a hidden warning.

With another loathing look at Sirius, Snape reluctantly put his wand back up his sleeve.

The situation for now was under control, the Headmaster turning back to address the students. They looked still quite shocked at the display and some seemed, even though he had much changed since his face had been plastered in the newspapers, to have recognised Sirius Black. They were now frightfully whispering with their neighbours.

"Children. Please calm down. Don't be afraid, every thing is under perfect control"

The nervous whispering remained, increasing rapidly as the news of this Animagus being Sirius Black carried along the tables. Harry didn't pay attention to the others and fixed his Godfather with his eyes. Black looked beyond angry. A feeling which he shared perfectly. Snape had destroyed everything. Now Sirius would be in even more danger and would have to go into complete hiding because his Animagus form had been revealed.

"Look what you've done, Black. You scared the kids," Snape mocked, his lips curved into a smirk. "This time, nobody will be able to help you."

The noise level died down again, curiosity winning over fear as everybody listened intently to what was being said at the head table.

"I'll kill you, Snape, if it's the last thing I'll ever do," Sirius growled.

"If you escape the Ministry, you mean."

Both fixed the other with loathing glares, and Dumbledore addressed them once again. "Calm down you two…" he said in a soothing voice, trying to keep them under control.

The two wizards just kept on staring at one another hatefully.

"I've known it all along, Snape. You're nothing but a greasy, traitorous opportunist," Sirius hissed.

Snape kept up his glare for a moment longer, but when he eventually answered it was in that kind of voice Harry knew all too well. Harry had never encountered anyone who had mastered such a deadly voice as well as the Potions Master. The kind of voice that even when whispered could easily penetrate the furthest corner of any room.

"And you, Black, are a fugitive murderer who is being searched for by the ministry -- dead or alive."

Harry didn't grasp the meaning behind Snape's words right away. All of a sudden, each and every one of his instincts was on red alert. In panic, he shot up from his chair, only to see Snape pull out his wand, pointing it again at Sirius.

"Avada Kedavra!"

Time seemed to freeze for Harry, everything occurring in slow motion as a sickly green stream left Snape's wand and, like a deadly snake, shot venomously towards his Godfather, hitting him at point blank range in the chest.

Sirius stayed on his feet for a moment longer, his unseeing eyes wide open, before his legs gave in and he crumbled to the ground, landing in a broken heap on the floor.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

The scream ripped through the great hall, Harry not seeming to realise that the sound so full of shock and despair had came from his own throat.

He barely registered how more of the students jumped from their seats, Dumbledore and Lupin hurrying over to the fallen wizard. His thoughts flew wildly in his head, without him being able to grasp one long enough for it to make sense. Fragments of sentences entered his brain but disappeared too fast in the deaf chaos of his mind before he could think them through. 'No, not Sirius, like Cedric, Avada Kedavra - Sirius Black has just been killed by Severus Snape.'

This last thought broke through the turmoil in his head and at the same time that he realized the fact that Sirius was dead, his heart started to refuse the possibility. "No," he whispered. "No, no, no…"

He was vaguely aware of Hermione and Ron, who had stepped to his side and were talking urgently to him. However, he didn't hear their words over the noise of his own thoughts. 'He isn't dead. He can't be. This is only another nightmare and I will wake up any minute now,' a persistent voice in the back of his head stated, over and over again. His eyes were now on the teachers' table, where Sirius was hidden from his view by the table and the people who were bent over him.

"Hagrid, Minerva, get the children in their dormitories," he could barely hear Dumbledore's voice over the common agitation. Seconds later, students began herding reluctantly towards the exit as they got ordered to by the teachers. Harry could hardly feel it as the students bumped into him in the narrowness of the space between the tables. Nor did he seem to notice that Hermione and Ron had stayed by his side, trying to shelter him from the other children, throwing him worried and pitying looks from time to time.

Only the weight of a huge hand resting on his shoulder pulled him back into reality. He looked up to find Hagrid's devastated face above him.

"Come, Harry. Dumbledore says tha' yeh' three should be waitin' fer him in his office."

Harry distantly stared at the gamekeeper. Then he saw it; the half giant's eyes were glittering with something that looked ominously like laden tears. 

Tears? 

'No,' Harry told himself. Hagrid must have gotten something in his eye, because if those were tears it would mean that something terrible had happened. That someone had died.

That Sirius had died.

'He isn't dead,' the little voice in Harry's head reminded him again. 'Hagrid wouldn't cry for Sirius. He probably barely knew him.' 'But Hagrid has such a soft heart that he would cry for anyone, who he would witness to be killed in front of his eyes,' another voice insisted.

Harry didn't want to hear that voice. He shook his head weakly. "No," he breathed, all the force stolen from his voice by the shock that was still holding him prisoner.

"C'mon," Hagrid said, steering him gently toward the exit. Harry had no force to put up any resistance.

***

Harry was hardly aware of how he had got to Dumbledore's office. A short time later he was sitting on the blue couch, flanked by Hermione and Ron.

Hagrid was standing a short distance away, fidgeting nervously and looking sympathetic and helpless.

"Maybe he didn't aim right," Hermione said in an effort to encourage Harry, even though she didn't sound confident at all.

"Or maybe Snape's pronounced the curse incorrectly. You know how important that is," Ron added.

Harry didn't look up. He just sat there, slightly hunched over, his shoulders sagging and his elbows resting on his knees. Part of him had heard his friend's words and said part held onto them, as if nothing else in the world existed.

*********

T.B.C.


	8. Avada Kedavra 2

Chapter Seven:

_Avada Kedavra 2:_

Harry looked up abruptly as the small groan of a door creaking open reached his ears. Dumbledore entered the office cautiously, momentarily holding the door open for McGonagall, who followed him into the room. The Transfiguration teacher had that usual stern look upon her and her eyes burned with something akin to fury.

Dumbledore had probably told her about Sirius' history and the circumstances of his being here, Harry assumed indifferently, but as his Head of House turned to face them, meeting Harry's eyes, her stern face melted into an expression of sorrow and pity. The hairs in Harry's neck bristled in a terrible foreboding and he quickly broke her glance and looked over to Dumbledore, who looked as sorrowful and regretting as he approached Harry.

Harry had the impression as if the ground would be pulled away from under him and he felt dizzy. Only one look into Dumbledore's expressive eyes and he knew what the headmaster was about to tell him, but he didn't want to hear it. As soon as the words were said aloud, the last fragments of his hope would be shattered into pieces.

"Harry…" Dumbledore began as he reached the couch, but his voice then broke and a charged silence filled the room. With an almost desperate look on his face the Headmaster crouched down in front of Harry, so that their eyes were level.

"I'm so terrible sorry to tell you this…" again his voice broke and instead of more words, Dumbledore only shook his head regretfully.

Harry only registered that half-heartedly. His surroundings started to blur. He didn't want to cry, but the tears that were stinging his eyelids were impossible to hold back anymore. Sirius Black was dead. The only adult who could have been close to a parent to him was dead. A thick lump formed in his throat and made it impossible to speak. The frog in his throat grew, pressing against his windpipe, threatening to suffocate him.

Only after the first tears left his eyes and flew down his face did the lump loosen with a desperate sob. As if this first sound of distress had broken a dam, something in Harry shattered and more sobs followed the first. Harry tried to control them; he was no baby anymore and didn't want to break down here in front of all those people. However, when Dumbledore took his shoulders and pulled him close, Harry lost the fight and cried helplessly against the Headmaster's shoulder. The old wizard held onto him for dear life, stroking soothing small circles on his back. "I'm so sorry, Harry. Please believe me. So terribly sorry."

Harry heard the sad words and was startled at the way the normally strong voice quivered in pain, but that didn't do anything to help stop the treacherous flow of tears, and he only sobbed harder.

He had cried enough to last for hours as the tears finally started to dry out, even though his body still shook with occasional sobs.

"It's all right, my boy. It's all right. Everything will be okay. You'll get through this." Dumbledore still sounded very sad and Harry finally found the strength to straighten up a bit. He wasn't surprised to find Dumbledore's face wet with tears too.

He also realized that Hermione and Ron's hands were on his shoulder, and that they were both crying as well.

"Better, Harry?" Dumbledore asked quietly.

Harry, not trusting his voice, nodded weakly.

"Why?" he finally croaked, ignoring the pain in his chest. One word without another breakdown wasn't so bad, he figured.

The headmaster sighed sadly. "We'll figure it out my boy."

"Where is he?" Harry asked, his eyes downcast.

"Who?"

"Si…Sirius." This time, Harry was not successful in stifling another sob.

"In the hospital wing."

Harry looked up at Dumbledore with a determination that he wouldn't have thought he'd be able to muster in this situation.

"I want to see him!"

"Harry," McGonagall cautioned doubtfully, but Harry just glared back. "I. Want. To. See. Him."

"It's quite all right, Minerva. It's his right to do so," Dumbledore answered tiredly.

With as much determination he was able to gather, Harry pushed off the couch. His two friends and the Headmaster stood as well and he felt a supporting hand between his shoulder blades as the old wizard steered him out of the office.

Harry was grateful that the gangways they crossed on the way to the hospital wing were deserted of other students. He wouldn't have been able to handle the curious looks and suspicious whispers they were no doubt uttering right this minute.

When they entered the hospital wing, Harry registered with dismay how bright and friendly the atmosphere here was. To him, it felt like a mockery. It shouldn't be bright here, but dark and depressing – the same as it was looking like inside his soul. Once again tears threatened to surface but he blinked them away.

"Headmaster? What are the children doing here? Is anyone hurt?" the voice of the older med witch, who was hurrying towards them, pulled him out of his thoughts.

"We want to see Sirius Black," the headmaster responded.

"Black?" Pomfrey let her gaze swift over the students with irritation. "Dear, Albus. Those children really shouldn't be here."

"Poppy, please. It's all right. Let them see him," Dumbledore said.

After another doubtful look towards the teenagers she finally nodded and led the group to an adjoining white door to the right side of the main room. They followed silently, Dumbledore's hand never leaving its place on Harry's back.

The door let them into a small, cool and almost empty room in the middle of which stood a solitary narrow bed. On this bed, covered up to the chest with a white sheet, lay the motionless body of Sirius Black .

Almost as if they had a life of their own, Harry's feet moved him to his godfather's side and he just stared dully at the lifeless body. For as long as he had known his godfather, Sirius could never have been called handsome. The long years in Azkaban had drained the man so much that only a shadow of his former good looks remained. Lying there now, with no mischievous sparkle in his eyes or a smile to soften his features, he looked even scrawnier than ever before.

Hesitantly, Harry lifted one hand, lightly touching one of the gaunt, fallen cheeks. He jerked back instantly as he felt the unnatural coldness of the skin. The coldness of death had fallen over Sirius. His chest was still, as were the man's features. Black's face seemed eerily still. It was just so -- lifeless. This was no longer his godfather. Just a cold and empty thing that would soon be gone, rotting away in a cold grave.

Harry looked dully at the hand with which he had touched the body; the hand itself now starting to shake, but it wasn't simply his hand. His whole body was trembling and he felt the urge to run away from this place of horror and pain, but something held him captive and prevented his legs from moving. A sick fascination held his eyes on the corpse in front of him. Corpse – Not Sirius... Never again Sirius…

With incredible force of will he pulled his eyes away from the dead body and turned back to the others. Hermione was crying hard and Ron was holding her close in comfort, even though his face was equally wet with tears - just like Dumbledore and Hagrid's. McGonagall and Pomfrey didn't cry openly, but their looks were full of compassion.

Those looks of sympathy though, broke something in Harry. Sirius Black was gone. Severus Snape had killed him in cold blood. Snape. The numb pain inside of Harry begun to morph into hot hatred. It mutated and grew like a fire in dry grass until it threatened to consume him whole. He clenched his fists and the trembling in his body grew as he tried to get hold on this new feeling. "Where is Snape?"

"Harry," McGonagall begun, "You shouldn't…"

"WHERE THE HELL IS SNAPE. I'M GOING TO KILL THAT SON OF A BITCH WITH MY OWN HANDS, I SWEAR IT!" he interrupted his Head of House with such vehemence and volume that Hermione jerked back, looking at him in disbelief. The others present stared at him as if he'd just announced his plans to become the next dark lord himself. All except Dumbledore, whose eyes only became sadder.

"Harry, please leave Professor Snape to us. I've already confiscated his wand and he's confined in his quarters for now. I can promise you that he will be held responsible for this."

"Bullshit!" Harry swore loudly, still upset and angry. "You've heard Snape. Sirius was a wanted criminal and nobody will blame that bastard for his murder. The Ministry will pat his shoulder, congratulate him and award him with a medal. You too are always taking his side, Headmaster, defending him. You're not really going to punish him. You always showed clearly that greasy ex–death eater was more important to you than Sirius ever could have been."

The sadness in Dumbledore's eyes changed into something like hurt and Harry felt a short flash of shame because his words were the reason for this hurt, but it did nothing to dimmer his fury.

"Harry, that's not true, and you know it. Professor Snape has done a terrible thing and will have to face the consequences for it. You have my word."

Harry gave a sharp, humourless laugh. "And what are you planning to do, Headmaster? Fire him and send him away from the school? He would run straight to Voldemort, revealing all your secrets. Or do you plan on sending him to Azkaban for killing a wanted murderer? He'd never be convicted."

"You are terribly wrong, my boy," the old wizard whispered, every one of his many years seeming to weigh heavily on his shoulders. "Severus has used one of the Unforgivable curses and the Ministry will not overlook this fact."

Harry only gave a sceptic snort.

"Yeah, right… I want justice. No matter how, and I will get it too. One way or another," he swore bitterly before edging his way passed the others, stalking out the room and the hospital wing as fast as possible.

T.B.C.


	9. Out of control

Chapter 8

_Out of control:_

Harry didn't pay any attention to where he was heading. Originally, he had wanted to go to the dormitories, or outside to the lake. He wanted to go somewhere where he would be alone and if possible, smash some things to pieces to give vent to his burning anger. He was angrier than he had ever thought possible. Not even when his relatives in Privet Drive continually treated him like shit did he feel such helpless rage; even Pettigrew who had betrayed his parents he didn't hate to the point that he now hated Snape. This time he had been present to witness the senseless and cruel murder of his godfather.

It was kind of strange. Only one hour ago, he had broken down in tears, but now he felt hollow inside, as if a part of him had died along with Sirius. His heart felt as if it had become a heavy rock, pressing painfully against his lungs and ribcage.

Only fury was the thing that still burned hotly within him, fury for Snape who had killed Sirius, but also fury at himself for being in the same room, watching, yet not doing anything to stop it happening. There was also fury at Dumbledore, for not seeing the signs sooner, realizing the danger and getting rid of Snape.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Harry knew that neither him nor Dumbledore were to blame, but he didn't want to think about that for now. He simply needed to put the blame somewhere, to find a way in which it could all have been avoided. Every possibility he found hurt, and every new pain stirred his hatred, which was suffocating the immeasurable pain. At this moment, Harry welcomed the hatred. Rather hate than suffer. It was so much easier, so much more satisfying.

"Mr. Potter? What are you doing down here?"

With a jolt, Harry came to a stop and looked immediately into the suspicious narrowed eyes of Mr. Filch, the caretaker.

Harry took a look around. He was in the dungeons, right in front of Snape's quarters. He had no clue how he'd gotten down here. Hadn't he planned to go outside? He glanced over to the wooden door, on the centre of which a winding snake was engraved. Yet again the hatred closed upon him like a warming cloak.

"I want to see Snape," he said menacingly.

Mr. Filch shook his head vehemently. "The headmaster has locked the room and I was ordered to guard it and not let anyone in or out of this chamber."

"And how do you plan on stopping him, if he wants to get out!" Harry exclaimed incredulous. "Out of all people, why did the headmaster choose you to guard Snape? You don't even know how to use magic. But I shouldn't be surprised. After all, it's so clear that this snake is getting away unpunished."

The eyes of the older man narrowed dangerously, and as he spoke his words came out a dangerous hiss. "Mr. Potter, I'll make sure that you'll be punished for your impertinence. I won't tolerate any student talking to me that way. Professor Snape has no wand and Professor Dumbledore put powerful wards on this door, so that no one who enters this room can get out without the headmaster's consent. Snape isn't getting past this door."

Harry didn't care about this. He wanted to be in this room with Snape. The Potions Master had killed Sirius, and Harry had made a silent oath not to stand by and watch as the murder went unpunished. Dumbledore was too soft concerning the potions master. No, if Harry wanted justice to be served he had to take the affair into his own hands. Without thinking about possible personal consequences he drew his wand, pointing it at a surprised Filch.

"Pertrificus totalus."

The caretaker's arms constricted to his sides and his legs snapped together, before he fell slowly, stiff like a piece of wood, backwards and stayed laying on the ground, unable to move be it just one muscle.

"I don't need to get out of the room again, Filch. I only want to go inside. Alohomora!"

The heavy door with the shake sprung open with a groan and without looking back at Filch or paying any more interest to the hissing Mrs Norris at his feet, Harry stepped into Snape's quarters.

Harry had never before been in the private quarters of any teacher, much less in those of the one he most despised, but he wasn't interested in the room with its stone ceiling, high shelves and antique furniture.

All he was interested in was the man clad in black robes, who was sitting in a stuffed armchair, looking at him with a startled raised eyebrow.

"Potter."

Harry didn't exactly know what he had been expecting, but it was hardly this arrogant boredom that was tainting Snape's voice. This man had killed his godfather not one hour ago, and now he was sitting there, relaxed and arrogant, as if nothing important had happened. This hit Harry like a punch to the stomach; Snape didn't even feel sorry for what he'd done, no flicker of regret was to be seen in those obsidian eyes. To the contrary, as he sat there, scrutinising Harry who was barely holding back his anger, Snape's lips curled into a minuscule smile.

"You've got a problem, Potter?"

Harry's hand rose of it's own accord, pointing his wand at the older wizard. "Get up, Snape. I don't want to kill you while you're sitting down."

Harry was determined to avenge Sirius. He had once shown mercy, when he had let Pettigrew live, something which had only led to a worse situation. This time he wouldn't hesitate. Snape would suffer the same fate as Sirius had. An eye for an eye, his uncle would say. Harry was determined and didn't show any sign of hesitation. His arm didn't tremble and his voice was sharp and threatening. He would have expected that his threat would wipe the self-sufficient smile off of Snape's face, but nothing like this happened. Snape just rose slowly and warily from his seat. He regarded Harry for a moment, seemingly highly amused, before he threw his head back and laughed out loud.

Harry blinked in surprise and unconsciously lowered his wand a bit. Snape was laughing. He was laughing loud and openly. There was not a fear of being killed and no anger of being threatened by a student, only maniacal laughter that loudly resonated around the man's quarters.

Harry was too perplexed for a moment to do more than just stare at the professor, his confusion overlapping his anger for several seconds. It was only a moment before it was back with even grater force, strengthened by Snape's laughter.

"Stop it. God damn it, stop laughing, you bloody son of a bitch!"

Snape truly seemed to calm down; he was looking at Harry even now with a wicked smile and a raised eyebrow, his voice strangely high pitched. "But why, Potter? Weren't you one of the students always thinking I had no sense of humour?"

"Shut the hell up, Snape." Again, Harry lifted his hand, pointing his wand anew on the Potion Master's chest. Unfortunately, he had lost some of his former control and his hand was shaking faintly.

"You're crazy," he finally hissed between clenched teeth, trying to muster all his mental control to still the traitorous trembling in his hand.

Snape's voice had again dropped to his normal low baritone: "Am I indeed, Potter? Is it so crazy to survive? I won't take any more orders from Dumbledore. No more insolent students and stinky dungeons." A new grin flew over the teacher's face and a dangerous distant glimmer appeared in his eyes. The Potions Master's eyes held something that Harry had never seen before. Pure and raw insanity."

This discovery stole all the air from Harry's sails. Snape had gone crazy. Completely nuts, and he was back on Voldemort's side. His hand lowered his wand again, Harry able to do nothing but gape open-mouthed at Snape.

But his incredulous face only seemed to amuse the Potions Master more. "What's the matter, Potter? You look like a small boy whose dog has just died.

This mocking comment was about the worst thing Snape could have said in this situation. With a howl of rage Harry jumped at him, grabbing him by the collar. His wand fell forgotten, scattering to the ground. Harry wanted to see blood and he wanted to feel how Snape suffered. The death curse was too good for this monster.

Snape tried to steady himself as he was forced backwards by the sheer force of Harry's attack. He staggered a few steps backwards but Harry didn't let go. He didn't care at all if they were to fall over. He lifted his fist and smashed it as hard as he could towards Snape.

Since he was a good deal shorter than the potions Master he hit him straight into the abdomen. With some satisfaction he registered the painful gasp of the older wizard as Snape curled to try and block the pain.

Harry's conscious thoughts had left him at this moment and he smashed his fist over and over again at his hated adversary. So violent was his assault that the Potions Master had no time to counter attack. He could only so much try to protect his middle with his arms while he swayed dangerously. With an angry roar, Harry pulled back one more time and smashed his fist upwards, directly into Snape's face. The tall man stumbled two more steps backwards, his face disordered in pain and his eyes glazed, before he lost his footing and his legs gave in, letting him tumble to the ground.

For Harry, this was not enough and he got ready to move over the fallen wizard to beat him to death, but suddenly two strong hands grabbed him by his upper arms, efficiently holding him back.

"Let go of me! I'll kill this bastard!" Harry shouted in rage, still in the hold of his fury.

"Harry, calm down. Come on. You can't kill him. Don't do something you will regret later on."

The urging, calming voice Dumbledore's finally made it through the fog of his rage and Harry stopped struggling against the hold of the Headmaster's hands.

Desperately, he looked up to the old wizard who stood behind him, still holding him tightly.

If only Dumbledore would understand. Snape had to be removed. "Headmaster, he killed Sirius. He…he…"

"I know, Harry," Dumbledore soothed in a quiet voice.

A haughty laughter, ending in a hoarse cough, interrupted them. "What a touching scene, Albus. You've always been a sentimental fool, too compassionate and much too weak. But the weak will not survive this war. They will perish, them and this whole blasted school. All will perish. All of them…"

Again, the Potions Master smiled nervously.

"He has totally lost his mind," Harry whispered.

With some difficulty and a wince of pain, the potions master fought himself back to standing on his feet. A small flow of blood dripped from his nose down to his chin and with one sleeve he wiped it absently away, only smearing it further. In a millisecond, his smile vanished from his lips, only to be replaced by a dark foreboding look. "You are all going to die. The dark Lord will win this war and destroy you all. But I won't be here anymore by then."

Harry looked up into the sad eyes of the Headmaster, which were deprived of every living sparkle. "Severus, you know what awaits you. Your actions and your ruthless words will bring you in front of a court."

"So what?" Snape defied.

"You know of the decree that had been imposed upon you, last time you were accused of following Voldemort. One of the conditions under which you have avoided a trial; no unforgivable curses, no matter under what the circumstances, or you're getting the kiss of the Dementors straight away without any trial or hearing."

Harry's eyes widened surprised. He hadn't known that. He felt a satisfied warmth blossom inside of him at hearing this, but also he felt a small bang of regret. Not because of Snape, but for Dumbledore who looked like he was barely able to suppress his grief... If Snape would be executed it would be very hard for the Headmaster to handle.

"Something is wrong with you, Severus. The man that I knew is not the man who is now standing here in front of me. It's breaking my heart, my boy, but this time I can't protect you any longer. Not any more. I'm sorry, but I will be sending an owl to the Ministry right away. Until you're picked up and arrested, you'll stay confined in those rooms."

Harry thought he'd misheard something. Dumbledore was really going through with it. He was handing Snape over to the ministry. Normally he should be overjoyed at this. Snape would get his deserved punishment. A terrible punishment, which was much worse than death itself, but the sorrow that lay in Dumbledore's eyes dulled his joy considerably.

T.B.C.


	10. Aftermath

Chapter 9

_Aftermath:_

Dumbledore carefully locked the door behind him, securing it with a spell Harry didn't know.

"What did you think you were doing, Potter?" he suddenly found himself face to face with a visibly upset caretaker. Filch must have been freed by Dumbledore from the curse and now, his face only centimetres from Harry's, he sputtered, cursing Harry loudly and furiously.

Harry observed him with detached interest and didn't pay any attention to the words the old squib threw into his face. What should he care about the scolding Filch, or eventual punishment? His Godfather had been killed today. No punishment could top that.

"Let the boy be for now, Argus. We'll talk about his actions later."

The caretaker immediately stopped his outburst, though he still glared at Harry full of loathing. Even this bitter, old man had enough respect for Dumbledore to obey him blindly and unasked. Dumbledore's word was law. Imperturbable and above all doubt, all living and dead beings in this castle seemed to respect this unwritten rule. Well, all but one in any case.

Harry felt new tears well up in his eyes at this thought. The immensity of Sirius' death, his inability to prevent it and his hatred for Snape suddenly seemed to weigh down upon his shoulders, threatening to bury him under their pressure. He felt helpless and weak all of a sudden and, against his will, started to tremble again.

Dumbledore came to his side and laid his arms soothingly around his shoulder. "Come Harry. You should go to your dormitory. It would be best if you lay down a for a bit."

"I can't lay down now. Snape, Sirius. It would only get worse – more real." Harry hated the traitorous undertone in his voice, which was bearing all his feelings so clearly.

Despite his feeble protest, Dumbledore started to steer him away from Snape's quarters and Filch. While walking, he reached into his robe, pulling out a vial. He held it in front of Harry. "This will help you to get some sleep, my boy."

Harry sceptically eyed the small container with the transparent liquid. "I won't need this, Headmaster. It's not like it's the first time I've lost someone close. I'm not a small child anymore."

Dumbledore ignored his admittedly weak protest and pushed the vial into his hand, not slowing his step while doing so. "Neither is Remus, but still, he has needed it too."

Astonished, Harry looked up and Dumbledore even managed something like a miserable, forced smile. "Why do you think he was not at Sirius' side in the hospital wing? It's hard for him, to lose the last of his remaining friends. There are not many people who would have done for a werewolf what the Marauders have done for Remus. Thanks to their nature, Werewolves rarely have any friends at all. Remus is now in his quarters, and as I hope, sleeping. All of this will be hard for him to process."

Not only for him, Harry thought, but he felt too absent to even comment on it, so he only nodded mutely. Too much had happened today, way too much for neither him nor Lupin to handle just now. Again he looked up at Dumbledore, who had still his arm around Harry's shoulder. The Headmaster looked old. Every wrinkle in his weathered face seemed more pronounced, his eyes dull and his whole demeanour full of bitter resignation. For him, the whole thing was probably not much easier. He too had lost someone he had liked a lot and he would have to send another person whom he held very dear to his doom.

"And how are you, Sir?" Harry heard himself ask on an impulse. The Headmaster sighed deeply before he stood still and faced the teenager.

"The times are not easy as it is. The war against Voldemort is on its full run. Sacrifices have been made before and will also happen in the future. People are getting hurt and killed. The sentiments of a single person can't be taken into consideration at this moment. We are forced to do things that would be unthinkable at any other time. I have no other choice but to end what I have started, even if it's proving to be the most painful thing I had ever have to do." Dumbledore looked at him for a moment longer before he again put a forced smile on his face. "Which reminds me, I had better go to my office. I have a letter for the Ministry to write. Will you get back to your dormitory all right?"

Harry knew that it wasn't his way-finding ability Dumbledore doubted, and he nodded in understanding. "I've calmed down, Headmaster. Snape will be turned over to the ministry and get his punishment there. I can live with that."

Dumbledore patted him once more encouragingly on the shoulder. "It's alright, Harry. You're not the kind of boy who is taking justice into your own hands. Such an action would be bending the rules which are separating the light from the dark side and would thus be the first step towards Voldemort's direction."

Harry winced at the implications of Dumbledore's suggestion – or had it been a warning?

With Dumbledore it was always hard to tell. But when the Headmaster disappeared behind the next corner, Harry suddenly felt relieved that he hadn't killed Snape after all.

When he reached the portrait of the Fat Lady he took a deep breath to calm his frenzying nerves. Certainly Ron and Hermione would have told the other Gryffindors about Sirius. There was no longer any reason to keep all that had happened a secret. There was nobody to protect anymore. Harry blinked a few times to chase eventual tears away. He wanted to keep as much of his dignity as possible, as not to have a break down in front of the whole Gryffindor tower.

"Quiddich," he named the password and stepped through the opening, as the portrait swung aside.

The common room was crowded with what must be every last of the Gryffindors. They were sitting on the chairs and sofas, or stood in little groups, talking in hushed voices. Some of them looked up to the entrance as they heard the movement of the painting and their discussions died abruptly. Taking notice of the sudden decrease in noise, the other students looked up, one after the other, and their conversations faded too.

An oppressing uncomfortable silence laid itself over the room as Harry became aware of numerous pair of sympathetic eyes directed at him. Ron and Hermione had, as expected, told them about Sirius and his relation to Harry.

"Harry, where have you been? We've been worried about you," Hermione broke through the silence. She hurried towards him, taking him into a brief hug. Ron followed up closely, scrutinizing him worriedly. "Yeah, where have you been, mate?"

Harry shrugged his shoulders. "I've been walking around."

Seamus cleared his throat, embarrassed. "Hermione and Ron have told us about what had happened in our third year and that Black is your Godfather and innocent of those murders. Can that really be true? It's hard to believe."

Harry glared angrily at the other boy. "Sirius WAS my Godfather, and he was wrongly accused." His looks were icy and challenged everybody to just try and contradict him. Nobody did. Only the more timid among them lowered their gazes in embarrassment.

"Professor Snape will not get away with this, Harry. The Headmaster will look into it," Hermione tried to calm him down.

"I wouldn't count on that," Ron doubted, for which he got a scanting look from Hermione. Still, he vocalized his uncertainties. "Dumbledore likes that git. What if he really lets him get away unpunished, like Harry suspected?"

"He won't." Harry stated sharply.

"Ahem, Harry," Ron countered, obviously ready to add a certainly unpleasant objection.

"I went to see Snape earlier."

Those words stole every concern from Ron and everybody was staring at him open mouthed.

"I wanted to kill him with my own hands," Harry continued unwavering. "It was Dumbledore, who stopped me. You should have heard Snape. That man has completely lost it. He only laughed about his acts, as if it all had been merely a game. Then he cursed at Dumbledore, telling him that Voldemort would win the war." He made a long pause before throwing his hands up in the air. "That Snape hadn't openly sworn loyalty to Voldemort was all. The git has never been an idiot. An immeasurable jerk maybe, but he's not stupid. He's rather the kind of guy who would deceive and plan behind Dumbledore's back. Even the Headmaster himself had said that Snape wasn't his usual self. Snape was acting completely crazy. Still, the Headmaster promised to have him arrested. For using one of the Unforgivables, he'll be getting the Dementor's kiss."

A collective gasp went through the Gryffindors as Harry stated coldly the worst possible fate for the Potions Master. Harry could tell that the others were stunned. Even though not a single one of them really liked their potions teacher, they still were shocked about the fate that awaited him. Harry didn't care. The others didn't know Sirius. They hadn't lost their last parental figure through the curse of a mean, crazy man.

"I'm going upstairs," he said resolutely. He threw a sideways glance at Ron, "And I want to be alone, understood?"

Ron nodded mutely. Harry knew that it was not fair to be so rude to his friends and that they only worried about him, but he couldn't take them for the moment. They just wouldn't understand, no matter how hard they tried. They didn't know how it was, when fury and grief ate at one's soul. It was impossible to say which feeling was stronger. Each one was overwhelming and competing for predominance, only driving the other to higher intensity.

He moved over to the boys' dormitory and the others stepped out of his way, their faces mirrors of sympathy and worry. Harry didn't look at them and only stared stubbornly straight ahead, his fingers clutched unconsciously around the vial in his pocket. Now he was glad that the Headmaster had been so insightful in giving him the potion. It didn't matter that it was the middle of day. He wanted to sleep and forget, be it only for a few hours.

T.B.C.


	11. Snape's arrest

Chapter 10

_Snape's arrest:_

Breakfast the following morning turned out to be a veritable run of the gauntlet. Harry deliberately rose early in the morning, going to the bathroom and locking himself into a toilet stall. There he planned to wait until all the other students had left for breakfast. He had no desire to go to the great hall and suffer the same curious and pitying looks like last night, so he stayed sitting on the closed toilet lid. His legs were pulled close to his body, while he was embracing them with his arms and listened how one student after the other entered the bathroom, getting themselves ready for the day. He couldn't be sure, but he had the impression that this morning the boys were not as loud and boisterous as usual. Nobody laughed or fooled around like they normally did, as if they were trying not to hurt his feelings, aware that he was sitting behind the closed door. But this was not likely. Even if Ron had guessed why he was missing this morning it was hardly thinkable that his friend would walk through all the other rooms to inform the other boys. Still, the tin handle of his stall had not been touched even one time.

The whole time he felt quite tense, muffled bits of conversations from his fellow student moving near him. He tried not to listen to their words. All he wanted was to be left alone and only after the door locked after the last morning bathroom visitor, an eerie silence descending upon the tile covered room, did he allow himself to take a deep relieved breath and loosen his body out of its tense position on the toilet lid. He dropped his feet to the floor, got off the toilet and opened the stall door.

"Finally, there you are."

Harry spun around. Leaning against the neighbouring stall stood Ron, hands buried deep in his pockets, and his right shoulder leaned against the stall door.

"Oh," Harry exclaimed, too perplexed to be able to muster something more intelligent. He swallowed, trying to suppress his surprise. "Wha…what are you doing here?"

Ron shrugged nonchalantly with his free left shoulder. "I'm standing here, since you decided to do the vanishing act one hour ago, hiding in here."

"I want to be alone," Harry growled.

"I'm aware of that, yet I'd be a bad friend if I leave you alone right now." Ron pushed off the door and laid a benevolent hand on Harry's shoulder. "Come on, mate. You can't hide forever. At least for the classes you have to face the others. Or did you plan in missing school altogether from this moment on?"

This time it was Harry's turn to shrug. If he was honest to himself, he hadn't even thought about that until now. All he had wanted was to be alone. But now he had to admit that it wasn't halfway bad to have someone standing by his side, offering support. Ron would help him and support him no matter what. "I don't know," he finally admitted. "I only wanted to be alone."

"Let's go downstairs, Harry. You're not alone in this," Ron encouraged. "Don't forget that Sirius was Hermione's and my friend also. Please let us help."

"I'm neither hungry nor in the mood to be stared at," Harry said bitterly.

"Harry, you can be such a stubborn git. Come downstairs. It'll do you some good to socialize a bit. I'll take care so that nobody will harass you. And no matter what you may say, _I_ for my part, am starving but I won't go there without you." Ron's voice was unmistakably indicating that he was gradually loosing his calm.

"Alright, I'm coming, but don't ask me to eat anything."

Despite Ron, who was shadowing him closely, Harry had a queasy feeling as he entered the great hall. Since he had waited so long in the bathroom, all the other students were already sitting at their tables.

As he entered the room some of the idly chatters died down, Harry finding himself as the unwanted centre of attention. The looks he got were not limited to the Gryffindor table. The Hufflepuffs were looking at him with sympathy, the Ravenclaws with curiosity and the Slytherins with unhidden abhorrence. Yet, and to Harry's astonishment, there was also something akin to worry and uneasiness in the eyes of the latter, certainly directed at the fate of their Head of House. The saying seemed to be right after all, Harry thought bitterly. That only rumours moved faster than the light. As it appeared, the story about Sirius and his own connection to it all, which Hermione and Ron had spread in the Gryffindor tower the previous evening had already moved through all the houses.

Harry walked to the Gryffindor table, seeing that a few of the students stood up to intercept him, wanting to speak with him. Ron however, made it roughly clear to them that they were to step back. Harry silently thanked his friend for this.

He moved relatively undisturbed to his customary place, facing Hermione, while Ron took the seat besides him.

"Harry. It's good to see you here, despite the happenings yesterday." Hermione had not been present while Ron had given him the speech about this subject, a fact for which Harry was greatly thankful. No matter how good a friend Hermione was, her self-possessed logical arguing would not have been easy to handle.

Breakfast for that matter was passing with an air of strained pressure, which was lingering in the air and even seemed to affect the staff. Lupin had a sombre expression on his face and rarely lifted his eyes from his plate. McGonagall, Sprout and the other teachers did their best to appear normal, but they too seemed to be quite nervous. The worst though was Dumbledore. He looked like he hadn't gotten one minute of sleep last night. He was pushing his food around on his plate, but not once did Harry see the man actually bring the fork to his mouth and eat something. Harry didn't feel like eating himself. He was already immensely proud of himself to sit straight and not react to all the Sirius and Snape related comments that drifted over to him from the students in the near vicinity.

A loud groan of the great entrance doors, as they got pushed open, cut through all ongoing conversation like a knife through butter. The two door wings were pushed open violently and three persons entered the great hall with a strong gait.

Harry, Ron and Hermione instantly recognised the young man leading the two others.

"Percy!" they all exclaimed as one.

Harry didn't care that his voice was the loudest and carried through the whole room. He observed how Percy and the two other men, whom he didn't recognize, marched purposefully to the staff table. ufflepufHHeroijurHjkn

The two unknown men – an overweight, short guy going bald and the other, an elegant looking, tall man with an overly big looking moustache, which reminded Harry strongly of uncle Vernon – fell behind Percy a couple of meters, leaving the redhead to step up to the table.

"Mr Weasley," Dumbledore welcomed him with visibly forced nonchalance.

"Professor Dumbledore. I wish I were here under more pleasant circumstances. You sent an owl to the ministry and the Aurors Mr. Mayweather and Mr. Bruce have been sent to come with me in order to arrest Severus Snape.

From the side of the Slytherins, some shouts of protest arose, but neither Percy nor the two Aurors paid them any heed.

"He's locked in his quarters," Dumbledore said with a broken voice. "Please come with me." He stood up and walked around the staff table so slowly and reluctantly, as if he were about to go to his own execution.

The rest of the staff trailed the headmaster with sympathy-filled eyes, but no one rose to accompany him. Dumbledore had probably wanted it this way; to face Snape alone, and it somehow bothered Harry. This would be hard for the headmaster.

As the small group crossed them one row away, Harry jumped off his seat. Hermione and Ron followed suite, eyeing him worriedly. Dumbledore stopped too and turned over to him. "Harry?"

"I want to come along!" Harry knew that the headmaster would probably not want him there at Snape's arrest, not even the other teachers had been allowed to follow. But to his surprise, the old wizard nodded slightly and understanding after a moment of evaluating. "All right, Harry. You three can come along, but stay in the background."

Again some angry and outraged shouts came from the Slytherins, and yet again, nobody reacted to it. Harry felt a flicker of discomfort, but only a flicker. It was his right to see how Snape paid for murdering his Godfather.

When the adults steered purposefully towards the exit, Ron leaned over to him and Hermione. "This will be especially humiliating for the greasy git. His most hated student will be present at his downfall." Ron seemed quite pleased and Harry too felt warm satisfaction at this thought.

"Thank you for not bringing the Dementors, Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore addressed Percy, once they had exited the great hall and were on their way through the spacious corridors of the castle.

"You have been quite explicit in your letter that you will not tolerate them even close to the castle. Also, I perfectly recall the fiasco the last time the Dementors were here to catch Black."

"Isn't it kind of ironic?" the short Auror, Mr. Mayweather spoke up for the first time. "That we're being here now to arrest the man who has gotten rid of the murderer?"

Harry was already getting to jump forward and make the man swallow his words but Ron and Hermione, anticipating his move, held him back by his arms. "Dumbledore will not let us come, if we don't behave," Ron hissed from between clenched teeth. This made even sense to Harry and he relaxed a bit, still angrily glaring at the man. Mayweather was already panting, as if he'd run for a great distance instead of just doing a short walk down some corridors. Every few moments he wiped his sweating brow with a white handkerchief. How could such an insensitive man in such bad bodily shape even be an Auror, Harry thought angrily.

Soon they reached the dungeons and Dumbledore paused shortly before Snape's door, closing his eyes as if to gather enough will and strength to go through with it all.

He finally took one deep breath and spoke the counter curse for the door, opening it. Without any more hesitation he then stepped into the room. The three men from the Ministry pulled out their wands in precaution and then, with tightly set features, followed the elder wizard into the room.

Snape sat, like last time, in an easy chair, leaning comfortably against the backrest, holding an open book on his lap. And just like last time he was looking at the entering people with moderate interest. Only when he saw Percy did his eyebrows raise in a contemptuous manner.

"Weasley? So then, the old man has indeed alerted the ministry? Yet apparently I'm not important enough, since they've sent for the lowest scum to get me."

Percy seemed unsettled under Snape's cold glower. He too had learned for seven years to fear the potion master's voice and glares.

Snape had made an art out of it, to give his students a guilty feeling whenever he so much as looked at them. No matter if they had really done something bad or not. Apparently, this feeling didn't weaken after having graduated school.

"Severus…" Dumbledore begun in a pained voice, but Percy caught himself and interrupted the headmaster angrily and with blazing eyes.

"Severus Snape. You have committed the crime of using one of the Unforgivables against Sirius Black and therefore causing the death of said human being. You're under arrest per now and will stay imprisoned in Azkaban until the date of your trial."

Those words finally broke through the Potion Master's mask of indifference and he pushed roughly off his chair, the book landing in a heap of creased pages on the floor. "How dare you arrest me. I have done the wizarding world a favour. Black was a wanted criminal. You can't send me to Azkaban for this!"

Percy didn't seem impressed by Snape's outburst. He had overcome his initial fear of the former teacher, and now there was a look of satisfaction in his eyes. He reached in a fold of his robe and pulled out a rolled piece of parchment, which he opened self sufficiently, starting to read.

"On the ministry resolution of the 13.11.1981 you have been cleared of the accusation of being a faithful death eater to he-who-shall-not-be-named. It has however been proved, without any doubt, that you did have contact with above mentioned dark wizard, therefore you had been warned to never and under no circumstances use one of the unforgivable curses. You would have easily been able to get hold of Sirius Black by other means."

The fury disappeared as fast as it had come and Snape sneered evilly. Harry swallowed hard. Right now, the potion master reminded him much of the man from yesterday, who had only madly laughed at having killed another wizard and suddenly a chill made its way up Harry's spine. He had always despised, sometimes even feared the potions master, but now he was scaring him shitless.

Snape still smiled lopsided, crossing his arm in front of his chest. "I am aware of those 'conditions', yet I would not have thought that the 'good' side of the wizarding world forgets so easily who is doing it a favour." Snape basically spat the word 'good', throwing a loathing sideways glance at Dumbledore while doing so. The old wizard's eyes turned a shade darker in anguish at the allusion.

"I am well aware that the circumstances are peculiar. Unfortunately, the whole affair will not be possible to be kept secret from the public eye. Because of that, and because Professor Dumbledore pleaded for your case, you will be getting a fair trial and not get the Dementor's kiss right away."

"Oh, how overly noble of you, Albus," Snape laughed sarcastically.

"Severus, please. I know what I owe you and I will make sure that you'll be treated fairly. I am not able to do more for you. You have done something terrible, child, and now you have to deal with the consequences. I am truly sorry."

That was a clear understatement. Dumbledore looked devastated, Harry thought.

"Please step away from the chair!" Percy ordered, mocking the 'please' with the sharp authority in his voice. He seemed to have complete control over his anger now but the self-sufficient look in his eyes remained. Snape just sneered at him at first, but then he took a step forwards.

Mr. Mayweather and Mr. Bruce flanked him instantly, their wands positioned at his chest. Percy stepped around him and took both his wrists, to tie them together behind him, but startled when he saw the white handkerchief, which was wrapped around the potion master's right hand. He turned the hand over and Harry saw a dark red stain, where the tissue covered the inside of the palm. "Are you hurt? Do you need medical attendance before we get moving?" Percy didn't seem very concerned about Snape's well being, but he was taking his duty extremely serious and would surely want to deliver the prisoner in good shape.

Snape snorted. "I certainly need no medical assistance because of a little run in with a student." While saying this, he eyed Harry with an arrogant sneer. Harry only answered the look coldly. Snape was really incredible, he thought. Even in this situation he kept on being an arrogant idiot. Still, he was surprised. He hadn't even realized that he had injured Snape's hand; so angry he had been while attacking Sirius' murderer.

Percy turned his attention back to carry out his order. He grabbed Snape's wrists and crossed them at the potion master's back and holding them with one hand, while he pulled out his wand, pointed it to the wrists and, with, a spell tied them together. During the whole procedure Snape didn't even flinch, holding his eyes stubbornly and coldly on Harry who answered the look steadfast and just as cold.

Only when Percy gave him a little shove and he briefly stumbled did Snape lose eye contact, and after getting his equilibrium back he marched with a high held head to the door as if he were neither tied up nor being guarded at wand–point by three Ministry men.

They didn't cross anybody on their way out of the dungeons. This changed though, when they reached the entrance hall. It looked like the whole school had assembled there to witness the Potions Master's arrest. They had built a wide cleft from their corridor to the entrance door, but Harry saw hundreds of students lining the walls up the stairs in thick groups. Even Lupin and the other teachers stood beside the entrance, Hagrid towering over them all. Their faces, like the Slytherins' too, were mirrors of concern and shock. Yet, on the faces of the latter was also barely contained fury. Snape though, seemed to get angrier with every step he took, yet his eyes didn't waver left nor right. Only when the great portal swung open, filling the front of the place with bright daylight did Snape spin around, staring at Dumbledore with blazing eyes.

"I hope you are happy now, headmaster. You may have gotten rid of me, but I swear that you will pay. I have risked my life for you and you betray me. You will remember my warning, mind you. I will not be here anymore to get my revenge, but the Dark Lord will win and you will perish. And on the day this is happening I will be laughing wherever I'll be, be it in Azkaban or in hell."

"He really has lost it," Ron said. "Completely nuts this guy."

"He must have somehow lost his mind otherwise he would never say something which will get him into even more trouble," Hermione mused. "I just wonder what may have happened to him."

"I don't care," Harry said. "He killed Sirius and no matter why he has done it, nothing will give me my godfather back."

Dumbledore, even though he was standing just in front of them, didn't react on their words and only stared at Snape with watery eyes. "Severus…" he whispered but Snape had already turned back and walked, his guards by his side, with head held high out of the door.

T.B.C.

Author's note. Okay. Even if you found a lynch mob and come after me, there will be no Snape for the next three chapters. But we can't very well just throw Sirius out of the hospital wing window and let him rot on the grass below, right?

So, the next chapters --Taking off her hat and pressing it meaningful against her heart -- we will take our farewell from Sirius Black. I expect you all to wear something dark and show up numerously at the funeral ceremony.


	12. the mysterious letter

Chapter 11:

_The mysterious letter:_

It was as if time itself had frozen still for several minutes after the three men from the Ministry disappeared with Snape. An eerie silence lay over all the people in the entrance hall. Nobody talked or even breathed too loudly. Only when Draco Malfoy stepped out from a group of Slytherins, standing left of the hall, and marched over to Dumbledore, did the strange stillness fall from students and staff.

"How could you allow him to be arrested," the blond boy spat in outrage, full of disgust. "All he has done was to kill a wanted murderer. Nobody will mourn Black, but you just have to protect your own house again of course."

Malfoy's words stirred the fury in Harry anew and he wished to tell Malfoy with a fist into his face, exactly what he thought of the Slytherin's opinion, but the reminding hands of Hermione and Ron on his arm held him back. The two had anticipated his thoughts exactly, and for the second time in a half hour, held him back. But this time, Ron appeared to be as furious as him and just wanted to say something when Dumbledore raised his hand in a halting gesture without even turning. Ron blinked, confused, being as surprised as Harry. This man really didn't seem to miss out on much.

"Draco, I know that Severus is…was your Head of House, and that you feel obliged towards him, but he knew what would await him if he'd use an Unforgivable against another human being." Dumbledore paused for a moment and when he continued speaking his voice was barely more than a whisper. "The Severus I knew would have known it at least."

He turned away from Draco, letting his gaze wander over the crowd, his eyes firmly set. "Please get back to your classes. The normal school schedule will not be interrupted by the current events. Potions will be cancelled for today. From tomorrow on, I will teach this class until I've found a replacement for Professor Snape."

His voice was firm, and it was clear that for him the discussion about the whole affair was over. Obediently, yet reluctantly, the students started to walk off, disappearing in the corridors, whispering timidly with one another.

Malfoy sneered one more time hatefully at Dumbledore. "You…you Gryffindor," he swore, turned briskly and stalked away, following the other Slytherins.

The teachers followed the students out of the hall, after throwing one last sorrowful look at Dumbledore.

At last only Dumbledore remained, together with the three Gryffindors who hadn't moved a foot yet. Tiredly Dumbledore faced them now. "You should be going too, children."

"Don't listen to Malfoy, Sir," Hermione said. "He only wants to make you feel bad."

The Headmaster smiled bitterly. "I don't need him for something like this. I am doing that perfectly on my own. But now off with you. There is a class waiting for you, I'm sure," he continued before any of them could reply to something in his first comment.

He had just finished talking as a flapping sound, coming from the still open entrance, caught their attention. Gradually, a small body came from the bright daylight, growing into a white owl that was flying into the room, directly towards Dumbledore. The headmaster instinctively lifted his arm on which the bird landed with ease, ruffling its feathers, before pulling in its wings. With a frown, Dumbledore managed with one hand to unbind the rolled parchment with the red wax seal from the owl's leg. The bird instantly took off again and disappeared the same way it had come in.

Dumbledore hastily broke the red seal and unrolled the letter. He read carefully, holding the letter in such an angle that Harry and his friends could not make out the words. The change that was going over Dumbledore's face showed them however, that whatever was written there was far from pleasant. The crease on Dumbledore's forehead deepened and his eyes turned hard. "Damn it to hell!" he suddenly cursed in a thundering loud voice, making Hermione jump back horrified. Harry and Ron exchanged a surprised look. Albus Dumbledore did not swear! Never! Or so they had always thought up until now.

The Headmaster didn't pay any more attention to the still gawking students and marched off with an angry pace.

"I don't know about you," Hermione said. "But I for my part would die to know what was in that letter.

"I only know that I don't want _ever _to get Dumbledore angry," Ron added intimated.

Hermione sighed. "We better get going. Professor McGonagall doesn't like it when anyone is late for class. Maybe we can ask the Headmaster later."

Harry and Ron nodded mutely and followed her towards the Transfigurations classroom.

The next time they saw the Headmaster at the staff table in the great hall. He looked like he had calmed down again, but he still seemed quite preoccupied and was pushing his food around rather than actually eating something.

The whole morning had been bad. Even if the teachers tried to act as if nothing had happened, the students were not able to concentrate fully and always fell back into whispering with one another. There had been a considerable tension over the school since Snape had killed Sirius, but now nobody was even halfway interested in schoolwork anymore. With satisfaction Harry had watched the confused, angry and insulted looks of the Slytherins. Snape would fall and those arrogant gits would get a major crack in their perfect façade.

But this letter, which Dumbledore had gotten this morning, was still on the mind of the three friends. They had talked about almost nothing else for the whole morning, discussing theories about what may have been in it. They had the discerning feeling that there was something written in this letter, which they would like as little as the headmaster. Maybe Voldemort had attacked again, killing someone?

When lunch was over and the first few of the students filed out of the hall, the three friends paid special attention to Dumbledore, and when the old wizard stood and walked out of the hall they followed him out, catching up to him in the corridor leading to the great hall.

"Professor Dumbledore!" Harry called after him. The headmaster stopped, turning around to them.

"Yes?"

"Well,…actually…we just wanted.." Harry stuttered, suddenly very uncomfortable. Asking other people about the content of their mail was something belonging strongly in the 'insolent' category, but Harry, Ron and Hermione had decided to ask anyway. They were just worried, after all. Surely this would excuse their curiosity. A nudge in his rips by Ron's elbow got him back to the problem at hand and the still-waiting Dumbledore. "We've been worried about the letter which you got this morning," he blurted out before his conscience would hinder him again.

Dumbledore didn't seem angry with them about the question. He just regarded them attentively and a twinkle found its way into those blue eyes of his.

"That's quite considerate of you. However, there was something in that letter that I didn't expect and it caught me off guard, that's all."

"And what was in the letter," Ron asked excitedly.

Dumbledore faced the redhead but Harry didn't miss the brief sideways glance full of concern in his direction. "It is nothing you should worry yourself with."

Again he put on his I-will-not-discuss-the-matter-any-further face and stared sternly at them over the rim of his half-moon spectacles.

With a questioning exchange of looks the three teenagers gave in -- for now.

"You can't be sure about it, Harry," Hermione protested, whispering.

Usually Hermione was the only one who could muster at least the appearance of interest in History of Magic, but today her attention was directed at the two boys in the row in front of her. Harry and Ron had moved their chairs back as much as possible and until the backrests of their chairs touched Hermione's desk.

"I am positive that the content of the letter has something to do with Sirius and the murder."

"But why?" Ron asked.

"Because of the look, Dumbledore gave me."

"What look?"

"Blimey Ron. Just how blind are you? That I-know-something-which-I-will-not-tell-you-for-your-own-safety-look."

"I didn't see such a look."

Harry rolled his eyes, slightly annoyed. Ron was his best friend but sometimes the youngest Weasley boy had the attention of a rock.

"The seal actually did look a bit like the Ministry seal, from where we could see it," Hermione said thoughtfully.

"And how do you know what the Ministry seal looks like, 'Mione? Your parents are Muggles and are probably not getting mail too often from the Ministry, other than my family. Since my father works there, he often gets notes or the like from them."

"So? Oh you big expert. Then why don't _you_ tell us what the Ministry seal looks like," Hermione hissed, a bit offended.

"It looks like the one on Dumbledore's letter," Ron answered innocently and with a wide grin.

Hermione made a disgruntled, snorting noise. "Idiot!" she muttered.

Ron only answered with an even wider grin, before he became serious again, looking slightly guilty at Harry. "Sorry Harry. What are we going to do about the letter now?"

Harry forced himself to smile at his friend. Ron didn't mean to disrespect Sirius by fooling around. Harry knew this. The redhead had cared about his godfather too, but Sirius had not been family to Ron, like it was the case for him. The whole situation had therefore not had such a magnitude on Ron as it did on Harry. Part of him was even relived that his friend was acting so normal. It showed him that not everything was over. Some things remained unchanged and he felt that he would need the normality of those things in the near future. They would help him come to terms with the loss. Together with the knowledge that Sirius would be avenged, when Snape would be punished for his doings.

"We'll get the invisibility cloak and go to Dumbledore's office. He will have the letter there."

"I can't image that happening," Ron contradicted.

"And why not?" Hermione asked still a bit offended.

"Because Dumbledore knows us. And he seems to be able to see straight through the invisibility cloak. Just remember the incident in Hagrid's hut. You know. When Hagrid told us to follow those…" he shuddered exaggeratedly, "disgusting spiders, who led us to the even more disgusting monster spider."

Harry remembered this incident clearly, would probably never be able to forget the moment that had led to one of the scariest instants in his life. They had been hiding under the invisibility cloak while Fudge had come to arrest the half giant. Dumbledore had been present as well and had looked straight at them, as if he knew perfectly where they were. They had told Hermione the story after she was freed from her petrifaction.

"Ron is right," she finally admitted. "I don't think either that we'll be able to sneak into his office unnoticed, even knowing the password."

Harry nodded. If he thought about it, Dumbledore had never seemed surprised to find him in his office. Even after he had found the Pensive, Dumbledore had looked as if he would have expected him to be right there.

How he did that was a mystery, but often, the old wizard appeared to be all-knowing and somehow, Harry didn't doubt that in his own quarters, Dumbledore really was.

"And if we just follow him for a while?" Ron suggested. "We hide under the cloak, put a silencing spell on us and keep enough distance."

"And what for?" Hermione asked. "Do you expect him to step in front of a mirror, reading the letter loudly to himself?"

"Was only an idea," Ron sulked.

"Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger. Would you be so kind as to pay attention to the class?" Professor Binns', who had finally become aware of their discussion, said, interrupting briefly his boring, sleep inducing lecture.

Ron and Harry moved their chairs back to their desks and let the rest of the course wash over them. Even if their thoughts were circling around a certain letter rather than around History of Magic.

T.B.C.


	13. A dead man's worth 1

Chapter 12

_A dead man's worth 1:_

Snape's arrest was topic number one in the Gryffindor tower that evening and most of the students were in a real party mood. The hated Potions Master who never missed an opportunity to treat them like shit had been marched off like common meat stock. Oh, how it must have humiliated the proud Slytherin. Most of the Gryffindors thought that Snape's outburst and his threats towards Dumbledore were nothing more than a desperate try to cover his shame of being led, tied up and helpless, past the students and fellow teachers.

The mood became even more exuberated when Fred and George showed up, carrying a couple of kegs full of butterbeer and a few dozens mugs. They instantly nominated this day as an extra holiday, calling it the "Snapeoffday".

For the first time since Sirius' death, Harry did not feel so devastated, even though the real light-heartedness stayed out, a melancholic sting in his chest still lingering.

Ron though, he was going with the flow and having the time of his life, telling everybody who cared to listen how they had eavesdropped on Snape threatening Sirius and denying Dumbledore, and of the arrest, when his own brother had tied up and marched off the greasy git, and of course he told about the way Harry had beaten the Potions Master. He was letting his fantasy run free at that, so that Harry was suddenly looking like the shining hero, while Snape was described as the grovelling coward.

Harry had told his friends accurately what had happened in the dungeons, but he didn't interfere now as Ron put it out of all proportions. It felt pretty good to have others share his hatred for the Potions Master and they were now making that know by loudly swearing at the man. Every one was hanging onto each word of Ron as he told them that Snape was supposed to instantly get the Dementor's kiss, when using one of the Unforgivables and that only Dumbledore's intervention had saved him from it and allowed him a fair trial. When the redhead said this, the students around him erupted into wild discussions. Some were angry about the headmaster's intervention, while others were insisting that no one deserved such a cruel, barbaric punishment that was worse than death itself. The Weasley twins took the opportunity and founded a poll in which people could bet on the outcome of the trial and Snape's punishment.

This however was a bit too much for Harry's taste. He felt sick at the thought of someone making money on the situation. Not because of the sentence Snape would be facing but because the whole thing was only happening as a result of Sirius having been murdered.

Ron too was in the middle of the crowd, surrounding his brothers, willing to bet a few nickels on the sentence 'kiss'. Harry ignored him and simply said his good byes to Hermione who was standing a bit apart, scrutinizing him with worry.

"Are you all right, Harry?" she asked, gesticulating toward the shouting crowd. "You want me to stop this?"

Harry shook his head. "Let them celebrate, Hermione. I will go to bed though." He forced a smile on his face as he saw her doubting look. "Really. It's okay."

He turned and made his way to the dormitories, somehow regretting that he had nothing of Dumbledore's draught left, which had left him sleep in blessed dreamlessness, letting him forget for a few hours.

For what must have been the hundreds time, Harry glanced at his watch. The illuminated hands showed that it was ten minutes after two. Had it really been only seven minutes since he had last checked? It felt more like a few hours. Unsettled, he turned over, wrapping the sheets tighter around himself, but about five minutes later this position too felt painfully uncomfortable.

With a frustrated snort he threw the cover off him and sat on the edge of the bed.

No use to pretend otherwise. Without the draught of last night he would not be able to chase the pictures of the dead Sirius and the crazy Snape off his mind. It was not the first time he was haunted by nightmares but lately he had taken the habit to writing to Sirius in such nights, telling him about it. Even if he had not gotten an immediate answer, it had helped greatly to share his worries with his Godfather. Those moments were now gone forever.

Again he felt this burning pain in his chest. Dumbledore would surely want to discuss the funeral soon and then Sirius would be lost to him in body too.

His decision taken, Harry silently slipped on his shoes and pulled a robe over his nightshirt. He would go to Sirius for the rest of the night. To be close to him for as long as it was still possible.

He left the dormitories silently, carefully closing the door behind himself. Then he descended the stairs to the now empty common room, leaving through the hole in the wall, which a grumpy looking and sleepily blinking fat lady opened.

Harry didn't pay any more attention to it and hurried straight towards the hospital wing. He was still a few corners away from his destination when the sound of angry voices floated over to him, letting him stop abruptly.

"I hope you are satisfied now."

The voice was definitely Dumbledore's but never before had Harry heard the headmaster sound so angry. Another, just as angry voice answered and what it said definitely nicked Harry's interest.

"We're only doing our job headmaster. It's exactly like I've said earlier. Black is too dangerous a criminal. The worst kind there is. We had to be certain."

As silently as he could, Harry sneaked closer. Peering around a corner, he saw Dumbledore and Madame Pomfrey face to face with two unknown men.

"I could have verified his identity perfectly well. It was not necessary to commit such a. …morbidity."

One of the men, a nondescript guy with glasses answered a bit condescending: "That may be so. But with all due respect, you're neither a medi-wizard, nor qualified to take into count all eventualities. The Ministry has already agreed to make the examination take place in the middle of the night, so that the students are not more unsettled by even more officials in this school. Be grateful for that."

Harry instantly decided that he didn't like those men, and what did they mean by examination?

"The ministry is claiming to be the good side, yet it works together with Dementors who are real monsters, doing terrible things to humans, and this all with the consent of people like you. The ministry is accepting a deceased person to be treated without the proper respect. There are other ways to confirm the identity of a dead person without using it as guinea pig for several curses and hexes, which I assume had nothing to do with your duty here. The Ministry is only taking out its frustration on a dead man. Why else would you want to practise an autopsy? It is a simple muggle practise and can perfectly be replaceable by other means. Means that are not disgracing and mutilate a deceased person."

Harry could not keep the terrified yelp from sorting his mouth, as he heard this. Those people could not have Sirius… He refused to finish the thought in his head. They couldn't do that. Yet suddenly the letter Dumbledore had gotten from the ministry and the headmaster's reaction on it made sense. Never would the old wizard approve of something like this.

"Harry, what are you doing here at this time?"

Dumbledore had noticed him now and he suddenly found himself in the centre of interest from all present.

He looked over to the two unknown men. "What have you done to Sirius?"

"What is this boy doing here, Dumbledore," the man who had talked before addressed the headmaster, pointingly ignoring Harry's question.

"This is none of your business. You have done what you came from. Now I ask you to leave this school. Poppy, would you please show those _Gentlemen_ the way out?"

With a grim face, the medi-witch pushed passed the two men, walking down the corridor. With a last arrogant glance back at the old wizard the two men turned also, hurrying after Madame Pomfrey and disappearing around the next corner.

"Headmaster. Was this what was written in the letter? That those men would be coming?"

Dumbledore took a deep weary breath. "You should never have witnessed this Harry. I wanted to spare you this. At least this affair I wanted to keep away from you."

"What have they done to him?" Harry demanded to know.

"They have done tests on him. To assure his identity among other things."

"You have mentioned curses and an autopsy."

Dumbledore slowly shook his head. "Of this, you really should not know more."

Harry opened his mouth to protest, but Dumbledore stilled the words with a raised hand. He looked deep into Harry's eyes, as if he would want to see straight into his soul. "Just trust me on this, Harry."

Harry couldn't argue on this plea. He trusted the headmaster more than anybody else in his life. Probably more than he trusted his friends. He nodded reluctantly.

"Come with me in my office. I will give you another phial of the draught, so you can still get a few hours of sleep. Sirius' body has been freed by the ministry and we will bury him tomorrow."

At this words, a new cold shiver ran through Harry. Tomorrow already? After tomorrow, Sirius would be gone completely. Body and soul. He started to turn around to walk back to the hospital wing, but Dumbledore's Hand on his shoulder stopped him. "Harry, you need to sleep. You have to be strong tomorrow. You're the only thing coming close to a relative Sirius still has. He has nobody else."

Dejected, Harry submitted to Dumbledore's reasoning and followed the old wizard to his quarters.

T.B.C


	14. Farewell, Sirius Black

Chapter 13:

_Farewell, Sirius Black:_

The moment just after waking always had the bliss that a sleep fogged blankness of the mind preceded any memories. Therefore, Harry lived a wonderful minute in which he simply enjoyed burying his head deeper in the fluffy pillow beneath him.

But this moment went by too fast as his consciousness left the deep, dreamless sleep for good. At once, memory came crashing back, effectively chasing away the previous good feeling.

Sleepily, Harry rubbed his eyes and sat up on the couch on which he had spent the night.

When he had entered Dumbledore's office a few hours ago, receiving another phial of the sleeping draught, Dumbledore had suggested spending the remainder of the night here. That way, he wouldn't have to deal with his fellow students in the morning, all of whom would surely still be talking about the party.

Again, Harry had been surprised that the Headmaster had known about that. But Dumbledore had told him that it had been no more than a guess from his part, since he knew about the Gryffindors and their less than good relation towards the Potions Master. The Headmaster had looked terribly sad as he said that, and Harry had all too willingly agreed to stay here. He was worrying about Dumbledore just as much as the old wizard seemed to worry about him. Again he silently cursed Snape. Why did this man have to bring so much sorrow to the people around him, even now as he was sitting in prison?

"You are awake?"

Harry turned his head and saw the Headmaster come from an adjoining room through a door disguised as a bookshelf, which had formerly lined the wall.

"Did you sleep well, my boy?"

Harry nodded mutely. Sleep was always good. At least if it helped in fleeing the memories and were deprived of nightmares.

The Headmaster pointed his wand at the covers and pillows and without an incantation, the sheets followed the movement of the wand, folding neatly in midair and gliding down into a wooden box that was standing in a corner.

"Adjacent to my bedroom, you will find a bathroom. You can refresh yourself there. Dobby has informed Hermione and Ron to meet us here for breakfast. Also, he has fetched fresh clothes from your room."

"Are we not going to the Great Hall?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "Today is Saturday and most of the students will be going to Hogsmeade later on. As for us…."

He didn't finish the sentence but Harry understood anyway.

"Sirius' funeral," he whispered.

"Go and get washed up Harry. Ron and Hermione will be here shortly."

Half an hour later, Hermione, Ron and Harry were sitting at a table heavily loaded down with food, which had been set up in the middle of Dumbledore's office. The house-elves had outdone themselves again in dishing up a real feast, but none of those present were mustering a proper appetite.

"Where is Remus Lupin, anyway?" Ron asked after a while.

"Yes. Doesn't he want to come too?" Hermione added.

Dumbledore had explained them earlier, for what reason he had summoned them to his office, but had left out the information as to why Harry had not spent the night in the dormitories. Yet none of the two were rude enough to question their friend about it, upon seeing his devastated face.

Dumbledore put his mug, on which he had nipped, slowly back down on the table and looked as if he would brace himself for a well-planned speech.

"You know that Sirius is still believed to be the killer he was told to be."

The three teenagers nodded but remained quiet.

"Nobody would want to have him buried in an official graveyard. No one wants to know that his relatives and loved ones lie buried next to a convinced killer and this is, unfortunately, what people are seeing in him. For the same reason, we can't bury him here in the school ground, as he would without doubt have liked. Even if we leave the concern and wishes of the students' parents out of consideration, the grave would not be secure of eventual vandalism. Or even worse, someone could retrieve Sirius' body and get him off school ground. This I can't and won't do to him."

"And what are you planning to do then? Just dig a hole somewhere and throw his body in like some kind of garbage?" Harry asked bitterly.

"Of course not, my boy. There is another possibility and this is the reason why Remus isn't here right now. He owns a small cottage in the woods in which Sirius had spent some time after school and lately, hid there quite often. He has liked that place and Remus and I have been thinking that Sirius, under those circumstances, would probably have chosen it for his final resting ground. Remus has brought him there before dawn and we will follow to say our good bye to Sirius and give him the last honour."

They materialized in the middle of a small clearing, just besides a wooden two story cottage.

Harry let go of the old newspaper Dumbledore had charmed into a portkey to bring them here.

"Come with me," the Headmaster said quietly. Without checking if the students followed his command, he started to walk around the cottage, heading into the forest, the three teenagers right at his heels.

They only walked for about five minutes until they reached another clearing, one that was considerably smaller than the one in which the cottage stood. Only a little light managed to penetrate the thick layers of branches and leafs and it reached the moss-grown ground in spotted patterns. Between some large rocks, which looked as if some giant had tossed them there carelessly, a small spring had build, running down like a silvery filament and being absorbed by the thick moss on the ground. To the left, at the boarder of the clearing, an old oak towered proudly like a silent guardian. It's moss and ivy covered trunk was so broad that not even two adult men could have reached their arms around it.

Two metres in front of this tree, Remus Lupin was squatted on the ground, facing away from them. When they approached, Harry saw that the werewolf was crouching at the foot end of a plain wooden casket, one hand absently laid on the rough wood. Just besides them, a long, deep hole was cleaving in the soil, big enough to house the coffin.

Again Harry felt the hot sting of tears in his eyes and bit his lower lip until it hurt.

"Remus?" Dumbledore asked softly.

The werewolf jerked around, pulled from his musings by the Headmaster's voice. As he saw them he smiled painfully. "So you're here at last."

Harry ignored him, going down on his knees besides the coffin. Gently he laid his hand upon the wood, right where his Godfather's chest would be. "Sirius," he whispered, his voice little more than a broken croak.

"When Sirius saw this spot for the first time he instantly fell in love with it," Remus softly explained. "He said that this place is pure and innocent and that here was one of the few places where he could forget Azkaban and feel truly free."

Harry looked up to his former professor. Lupin seemed quite controlled, if one took into consideration that with Sirius, the man had lost the last of his former friends.

The Marauders were no more.

Yet, Harry also knew that this was not the first time Remus was left alone by Sirius. Last time the werewolf had thought that his friend had betrayed James and Lily and killed Peter. Back then, he had been burying Sirius in a hole named Azkaban. Now he would bury him in a different hole. The tears had probably run dry long ago, leaving place to resignation.

Harry felt deep compassion with Remus Lupin. Beaten by life in every possible way, there was barely any room left for joy; only pain, solitude and sadness on different layers. After a while, the pain must develop into such an ever-present companion that it became a constancy in his life.

"He would have liked to be put to rest here, I'm sure," Hermione said, even though a traitorous sob let her voice break at the end of her sentence. Ron laid his hand comfortingly around her shoulders. "I'm sure he would," he agreed, but his voice too was forceless and he had his eyes filled with tears.

Harry's throat constricted, upon seeing their obvious distress; making breathing difficult. He turned back to the coffin. Sirius was in this impersonal thing and in a few minutes he would be lowered into the dark soil. Gone forever.

"Remus?" he asked painfully.

"Yes, Harry?"

"Could you please open the coffin one more time? I want to see Sirius' face when I say good bye."

The absence of an immediate reply made Harry look up. Remus was staring at him with a face full of shocked surprise. 'What the hell…' Harry thought suspiciously.

"Remus," Harry said, this time with more vehemence. "Open this coffin."

Remus threw a help-searching glance at Dumbledore before he lowered his head, evading Harry's eyes.

"Harry," Dumbledore now interjected, his voice hesitating and gentle. "Please don't ask this of us. Keep Sirius in your memories the way you knew him."

Those words however stirred Harry's anger. What was Lupin's and Dumbledore's strange attitude about? It was his bloody right to see his Godfather again if he wished to do so. Angrily he got to his feet, walking over to the Headmaster. "What the hell is going on here? Open that coffin. I want to see him. Why do you want to forbid it?"

"We don't want to forbid you to see him. It's just…"

"It's just, what?"

Dumbledore seemed quite upset and looked like he had to fight with his next words. But then he sighed acquiescent, as if he had taken the conclusion to tell Harry all the bad secrets of the world. "The two men you saw in front of the hospital wing; you know that they have been doing some tests on Sirius, right?"

Harry nodded brusquely. Of course he remembered those two men who had apparently submitted Sirius to all kind of hexes and were even said to have done a complete autopsy on him. Harry had just finished this though, when a terrible foreboding crashed upon him. He suddenly prayed that it wouldn't be what he feared the Headmaster would just be telling him.

"The hexes and curses the two ministry wizard have preformed on Sirius…" The headmaster hesitated, as if he would be searching for the right words. "What I want to say is; they did not care about any damage they may inflict to his body – his face…."

He didn't continue. It wasn't necessary either. Harry could now perfectly make his own picture as to why Remus and Dumbledore didn't want him to see Sirius again. The curses, which one could use to track deep sitting hexes and delusions and literally turned ones insides out, were not unforgivable because they were only practised on dead people, yet they were rarely used because first off, they didn't have any better effect than some, less violent hexes did and secondly, they only left a mutilated mass of flesh out of the former corpse.

Imaging this, Harry felt sick and had to fight the sudden urge to vomit. "Oh god, no. They can't do this. Sirius…Sirius does not deserve this."

He threw a pleading look at Dumbledore. "He has done nothing wrong. Haven't they punished him enough already?"

Harry knew that there was no fair answer to his question and he didn't expect one either. Dumbledore just answered his glance sadly. "You should all say your good byes now," he said softly.

Good byes? Harry didn't want to say good-bye. He wasn't ready yet. Say farewell once and for all and let Sirius go? He shook his head at this thought. Dumbledore sighed again, braced his arm around Harry's shoulder and pulled him to his side, facing the coffin.

He held his student close, as if he were hoping to lend him some of his own strength by the close contact.

Remus too stood and stepped aside the headmaster, his face as tight and sombre as Dumbledore's. The Headmaster nodded to Hermione and she stepped forwards, getting on her knees and laying her hand upon the coffin's surface, where Harry had had his just minutes ago.

"It has been an honour to know you and I wanted to apologize that we too suspected you in our third year. I wish there would have been more time to get to know one another. Please keep on guarding Harry from wherever you are now."

She stood again and exchanged her place with Ron, who encouragingly patted her shoulder as they crossed.

"I have never really thanked you for Pigwidgeon. Now it's too late. We live too much in the deem that we have all the time in the world. But we shouldn't think like this. Especially in the times we live in right now. I won't forget that again, Sirius. Unfortunately I can only thank you here anymore, at your grave and hoping that you can hear me somehow. Thank you for everything."

He too rose again, standing at Hermione's side.

Dumbledore briefly tightened his hold on Harry's shoulder, in an encouraging gesture. But Harry felt terrible. He felt sick and his legs barely supported his weight, while a thick knot had build in his throat and tears flew freely down his face. Still he managed to get to the coffin, kneeling down besides it. Gently, he brushed a leaf from the surface, which had fallen down from the great oak. He tried to get rid of the knot in his throat by swallowing. This only hurt more though and his vision started to blur in earnest through a curtain of tears. It took him a moment to gather enough strength to speak out the words that were flying around in his head, even if his voice sounded old and hoarse.

"Sirius. You will not have the chance to see Pettigrew arrested and you're not going to live to see your name cleared. Even though you have escaped Azkaban, you have never been really free. Always on the run. Hated and chased like a monster that you never were. Now you don't need to flee anymore. At last you're truly free and no one will ever hurt you again. But I swear to you here and now that your name will be cleared and your death avenged. If necessary I'll look to it personally. Your murderer will get his rightful punishment as well as Pettigrew. I hope sincerely that wherever you are now, you are happy. Farewell, Sirius Black. You have been the best godfather anyone could wish for."

Harry stayed sitting where he was. He had neither the will, nor the strength to move away from the coffin.

He looked up to the others. Ron and Hermione were both still silently crying and Lupin had his head lowered. Dumbledore however answered his look compassionately before he stepped forward too, closing his eyes deep in thoughts, smiling slightly. "I dare to think, old friend, you would never have expected for your death to have such an impact on the people around you. You have friends, Sirius. True friends and everybody who has true friends in life, is a blessed man." He had directed his words straight at the air in front of him, as if he'd expect Sirius' spirit to be just there.

Dumbledore opened his eyes again and pointed his wand at the wooden coffin, which started to levitate from under Harry's hand, shifting sideways and lowering itself slowly into the dark hole. It was gradually eaten from their sight by the blackness until it was gone completely in the depth of the hole under the tree. A murmured spell by Dumbledore, and the hole started to close itself, like a wound in the soil healing really fast. The edges crept together as soil, roots and moss shifted back into place until it looked as if there had never been a hole at all. Only a silvery looking, ten centimetre tall _S.B_. was engraved in the foot of the trunk, as single testimony for the grave under the roots.

T.B.C.

Okay people, in the second virtual drawer from the right, you'll find some virtual handkerchiefs. Now I would like to know, of course, if I have honoured Sirius enough by organizing a tear jerking funeral, or if the whole thing left you cold. If it did, then I can still blame the translation. (Practical:-P)


	15. the article

Chapter 14

_The article:_

Harry was barely approachable for the rest of the day and had, right upon their return to Hogwarts, withdrew into his dormitory, where he fell onto his mattress. Laying on his back, he stared dully at the sky above his bed, feeling completely hollow inside, as if he had no more tears left which he could shed.

He noticed how the door opened and Ron came in, but he didn't look up. His friend, however, only let himself fall onto his own bed, after which he grabbed a book from his nightstand and started to read without saying a word.

A warm feeling of thankfulness engulfed Harry. His friends would not let him down, and even though Ron respected his wish for privacy, his presence was both soothing and strengthening at the same time.

When the other students arrived from Hogsmeade, getting ready to go to the Great Hall, Harry still didn't move. Ron didn't comment on it and only got up wordlessly to follow the others.

Finally alone in the dormitories, Harry slipped off his clothes and slid under the cover of his comforter until, about one hour later, the door opened again and the mattress under him shifted, as someone took a seat at it's edge.

"I brought you some food."

Harry sat up only to find himself face to face to a smiling Ron, who was holding a white textile bundle out to him. Harry returned the smile. He wasn't really hungry but he appreciated Ron's concern, and for his sake he would try to eat at least a bit.

"Thank you Ron," he said, while he took the bundle, opening it and bringing out a couple of sandwiches.

Ron waved Harry's thanks away. "It's nothing. You want to talk?"

Harry paused between two bites. If he were honest to himself, he would like to talk with someone who would not instantly try to either suspect or coddle him. Ron had known Sirius and the whole affair surrounding him and Harry knew that his friend would never betray him or take advantage of his trust, if he told him something in private. So, he began to talk. About the letters he had used to write, when something had bothered him and the dreams he had nurtured about the day when his Godfather's name would be cleared and he would be able to live with him, having a real family for once. He talked quietly and for a long time with Ron, and they only went to sleep when, close to midnight, Neville stepped timidly into the room, as if he were trying not to interrupt something of big importance.

Sunday too, Harry spend away from the crowds, only able to stand the company of Hermione and Ron, until in the evening both not so subtly told him that he could not hide forever. Harry had, even if reluctantly, agreed with them. Life would go on. Somehow, even if that prospect seemed neither appealing nor easy to handle at this moment.

As soon as he stepped into the Great Hall however, he started to regret his decision. The other students begun to whisper behind their hands, starring at him shamelessly, but only as long until he locked gazes with them. Each person he looked at directly, instantly lowered their head in embarrassment.

Of course, the information from the Gryffindor Tower had made its way through the rest of the school like a bushfire, which had to have been expected of course. Harry was not feeling comfortable in the centre of everyone's complete attention, but at least the rumours that Sirius Black had been innocent were now circulating, even if that detail would probably meet quite some sceptics along the way. People would rather like to think that Harry had joined Voldemort's side, when getting involved with his men. It would be easier to point one's finger at him, instead of believing some rumours, which were contradicting something that seemed so obvious.

"I didn't know that You-Know-Who's friend was your godfather, Potter. Who knows? Maybe the shining hero of the whole wizarding world is a compatriot of the Dark Lord himself."

Draco Malfoy, as usual flanked by Crabbe and Goyle, stood with his arms crossed over his chest at the end of the Slytherin table, regarding him with an arrogant sneer. With blazing eyes, the blond Slytherin walked over to him, tossing an exemplar of the Daily Prophet at his feet.

Instantly, Ron bowed down to retrieve the newspaper, a horrified look on his face, but Harry beat him to it, picking it up with fast movement.

The whole front page seemed to contain only one single topic and two pictures adorned it. Beside one with a scowling Snape was a picture of Sirius, which had been displayed a few years ago from the muggle news up to all magical newspapers, when the search for him had been at it's fullest.

"Harry," Ron warned, but he ignored his friend and begun to read.

_Last Friday, Severus Snape, Potions Master and teacher at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry had cornered and killed the wanted murderer Sirius Black. Black appeared to have been an unregistered Animagus and it was no doubt this feature that had permitted him to escape Askaban in the first place. _

_Eyewitnesses at Hogwarts have testified that he had taken disguise under the form of a wild dog. Draco Malfoy, a student at Hogwarts and son of the respected and well known businessman Lucius Malfoy, has told us that the murderer had with all probability intended to sneak into the school and rip the students apart. A man who has, in cold blood, murdered over ten muggles and one of his friends, would surely not have second thoughts about killing children._

What is strange however, is the fact that Severus Snape, who, according to several rumours is said to be a former death eater, killed him. Those rumours are strengthened by the fact that Mr. Snape has used one of the Unforgivables in front of a school full of innocent children. Without any remorse, as we have been told by our sources, he threw the Death Curse at Black. As those trustworthy sources are also telling, Mr. Snape had, after the first fall of You-Know-Who been cleared of the accusation of following the latter, and this without an official trial, but only under the condition never to use one of those abdominal curses against another human being, under the threat of the immediate dementor's kiss.

_Why the sentence has not been carried out immediately and Snape will be getting a trial is questionable and probably only done to show him-who-shall-not-be-named that we will not treat his men lightly. But the fact that his followers are killing off themselves shows all too clearly that the rumours of his being as strong as before are nothing more than hot air._

_Because of this, the trial will hardly be more than a mere formality and Severus Snape will most likely be receiving the dementor's kiss just after. Which will bring some good by getting us rid of a ruthless killer and a rumoured death eater._

_The Daily Prophet will naturally keep you informed about the trial's development, which has been scheduled for next Thursday._

_Rita Skeeter for the Daily Prophet._

Harry could hardly believe what he was reading there. Rita Skeeter had created a true conspiracy theory and was blowing the events out of proportions until they were a caricature of the actual happenings.

Not that he would have minded her writing about Snape in this way, but Sirius really didn't deserve all this. He had been a good man who should rather get an apology for all those years that had been stolen from him, instead of being accused even more.

"The fact that he could transform into a walking flea bag has not helped him in the end."

Harry didn't acknowledge Draco by looking up, but he could feel the anger grow in him.

"Snape should be getting a medal instead of being in prison and if those fools of the ministry sentence him to the kiss, I will personally take care that he is getting this medal too."

Briskly Draco stepped very close to Harry, whispering, so only the other boy could hear him: "You know, Potter. My father has confirmed that Black has never been in the service of the Dark Lord and that he has never killed those muggles either, just like you've been spreading around. Unfortunately, you can't prove this and I doubt that anybody will ever believe you."

That was it. Harry was not willing to take any more. Before he had even thought about it he pulled back his fist, smashing it straight into the other boy's face. Malfoy yelped in pain and staggered back a step, his hands covering his nose. Blood welled from between his fingers and dropped down his chin.

"That's enough!" McGonagall's firm voice interrupted. The Transfigurations professor had apparently left the staff table already at the beginning of the fight and stepped now from between two rows of tables. "Mr. Goyle. Please take Mr. Malfoy to the hospital wing. Mr. Potter. In my office, now." She eyed Hermione and Ron sternly. "Alone."

Without paying further attention to them she turned briskly, marching out of the hall.

Submitting to his fate and under the pitying glances of Hermione and Ron, Harry followed his Head of House.

"I have been told about your close relation to Sirius Black and the fact that he had been your Godfather. Yet, even if I understand your grief, I cannot tolerate your behaviour."

Professor McGonagall had her Hands braced against her desktop; her upper body was slightly bent forwards and she was staring at him with a stern, calculating look. Harry sat nonchalantly on a chair face to her desk, answering the look of the teacher towering over him with a glare of his own.

"Malfoy started it," he said stubbornly.

The professor took a deep breath before her features softened some and she sank back into her chair as well.

"Harry," she began quietly and not unsociably. "I am well aware about your special situation, please believe me. You have seen too much death and lost too many people that anyone should in such a short life. Also am I perfectly aware that your surroundings are not always making it easy for you."

"You mean Malfoy and the Slytherins, without a doubt," Harry interrupted heatedly.

McGonagalls' face showed clearly that she would not tolerate such a tone from a student and her eyes hardened again.

"Mr. Potter. The situation is not easy for the Slytherins. No matter what they are doing, they are always suspected to be on the brink of the dark side from the moment they are sorted. Now their head of house has been arrested for the use of just such dark magic and there is a real danger for him to be sentenced to the dementor's kiss. I know that you are not fond of Professor Snape in any way, but you may be surprised that some people around him are worrying about him, even if he has committed such an abdominal crime. For us teachers and for the Slytherins it's not easy either and quite a painful experiment. Just think about the way Professor Dumbledore must feel these days."

At those words, Harry lowered his head slightly ashamed. Of course he knew that Sirius' death and Snape's arrest had affected the Headmaster terribly, and the last he wanted was to make it all harder on the man, but he also had a right for justice. He had suffered too and if Draco chose to cross him, he had to remember that he would fight back. Thinking of this, he remembered something that had bothered him as he had read the article.

"Professor," he changed the topic. "In the Daily Prophet, it was written that the trial would be on Thursday."

McGonagall's face darkened and her mouth became a thin line as she nodded brusquely. "That is correct. The trial has been scheduled for two o'clock in the afternoon. Transfiguration and Potions will be cancelled then, since the Headmaster as well as myself will be attending it. Why do you ask?"

"I want to come along."

McGonagall shook her head with vehemence. "That is out of the question. The Headmaster has especially emphasized that you will not attend to this trial."

Harry again felt anger well up in him. "It's my right to see Snape being punished!"

"No."

Harry jumped off his chair and glared challenging at the professor. "You can't keep me from attending. If you and Professor Dumbledore don't take me along, I will ask Mr. Weasley or write to the ministry, telling them that I want to testify against Snape. The experience I had with him as a teacher those last years will certainly not exonerate him. I can tell you so much. I want to see that this bastard gets his rightful punishment."

The Professor too had risen from her chair and was staring at him sternly. "Fifteen points from Gryffindor and detention with Filch for the rest of the week, Mr. Potter. I will not tolerate such a tone towards a teacher."

"I don't care if you're giving me detentions until I graduate and you can deduct as many points as you wish, I will be going to this trial," he hissed between clenched teeth, turning on his heel.

He left her office, closing the door with a bang.

T.B.C.


	16. The trial 1

Chapter 15:

The trial:

The first time Harry had seen the courtroom it had been in Dumbledore's memories, which the old wizard had deposed in his pensive. Back then, the round dark room, which reminded one so strongly of a middle age arena had already seemed less than inviting.

Entering the big room right now, he felt nearly struck down by it's cold and oppressing atmosphere. As soon as he stepped through the door arch with the other spectators, he felt a weird uneasiness inside of him. Almost as if a teacher would be observing him over his shoulder during an especially difficult test.

He had come into the room by the very same entrance through which, in Dumbledore's memory, the defendant had entered and he found himself now standing in the centre of the circular inner platform.

Barely a meter in front of him stood the simple wooden chair with chains, on which Snape would be bound upon. In front of it towered, on high rows, the tables and chairs of the jurors and officials, while the rest of the circular wall was occupied by simple wooden banks, built in a stair-like order.

Continually, more and more wizards filed in on those platforms from different entrances. Some of them were easily recognisable as ministry workers. They wore official looking robes, which to a degree reminded Harry in colour and appearance of uncle Vernon's business suits, even though they were clearly not muggle clothes. Others among the entering wizards and witches looked like common peasants and Harry was certain that there would be quite a number of aurors among them, who would be anxious to witness the undoing of another death eater.

It had continuingly gotten more difficult to find Voldemort's followers and messages of success were rare, while the news of murders and cruelties against wizards and muggles alike were becoming more numerous.

A flash of light to his left, only noticed out of the corner of his vision, let him turn his head. An indecently big diamond on a ring had broken the light of a torch, blazing it across the room.

Harry recognized the wearer of the ring immediately. It was no other than Lucius Malfoy, who was sitting in the lowest row, on the same height as the defendant's chair, the Malfoy Patriarch's face overbearingly neutral. Although the man was already sitting, he made the other people around him look small and unimportant. He himself was like a bright gem in the middle of dark pellets, but Harry knew that this impression was misleading. Lucius Malfoy was as mean as he was noble and good-looking. In his second year, the man would have nearly, and without a whim, cursed him, had not Dobby stepped between them, stopping his former master.

The white-blond man chose this moment to turn his head, looking straight at Harry. The only change in his face was a barely lifted eyebrow and a slight tilting back of his head, so that his look appeared even more arrogant.

"This way, Harry," Ron's voice pulled him away from Malfoy's glance.

Harry followed his friend with his eyes, as the redhead trailed McGonagall, Dumbledore and Hermione to take a seat in the lowest row at the back of the room. Dumbledore looked terribly sad but also pretty angry as he sat down.

Harry guiltily bit his lower lip. The sadness had its origin at the trial and Snape's immediate prosecution, but the anger was all his doing, he knew that. He had blackmailed the Headmaster and McGonagall into taking him along so that he would not testify against Snape. He felt bad about what he had done to Dumbledore with that betrayal, but he had been completely convinced about carrying out his threat. Even now, he had to hold back not to break his promise and testify anyhow. Snape had to be punished.

"Everybody please take their seats now. The defendant will be arriving in a few minutes." The voice of the court secretary, cold and impersonal, echoed from the arched walls, giving this room an even clammier atmosphere.

Harry shuddered. There were no dementors here right now, yet the room itself was giving out almost those same essence-sucking vibes, especially in the middle of the arena, where one was helplessly at the mercy to the scrutiny of every person present. This feeling must be even more overwhelming, being tied up on that chair. Harry just hoped that he would never find himself in this situation.

He stepped through the gap in the lower railing, onto the row of banks, taking a seat between Ron and Hermione. The tension emanating from McGonagall and Dumbledore to his right was almost tangible and Harry wasn't sure how much of that tension was the result of the trial, and how much of it was down to his blackmail. At least he could count on Ron and Hermione's unquestioning support. Dumbledore had only yielded to his blackmail under the condition that the two came along to keep him in check. The Headmaster had told him that he would be occupied enough with the trial to keep an eye on him too, and he had with that done a great job stirring his conscience. But yet again, the promise he had made besides Sirius' coffin weighted more to him, to see that his murderer would get his punishment. He would later apologize to the Headmaster but this was something he had to do, even if Dumbledore would not understand.

With an inward sigh, he turned his attention back to the chair, which was now standing lonely in the centre of the room and felt again anger rise in him. Snape had coming to him all that he deserved.

He let his gaze roam over the crowd on the benches. Malfoy was still sitting self-confidently at his place, both hands resting on the knob of his ever-present walking stick. On the opposite side, just to the left of the jury's tables sat an anticipating looking Rita Skeeter, a piece of parchment in one hand and her magical quill, which she was swirling in between her fingers at the moment, in the other. Harry was still convinced that it had been a mistake of Hermione to free this impossible person from her imprisonment, but the time that she had spend in Hermione's jar had surely impressed her enough to watch out what she would be writing about Harry and his friends in the future.

Movement in a dark spot of the upper row, right besides one of the upper entrances, caught his attention. Up there, hiding halfway in the shadows stood a man with a worn down robe. Remus had told them that he would be present at the trial but would not be sitting with them. The former teacher had not told them why that was so, but Harry could perfectly imagine the reason. No one liked to socialize or even be seen with a Werewolf. Remus could consider himself lucky already that he was allowed in an official building.

Again, Harry looked over to the simple chair. Snape – again Snape. This man brought Harry and the people he cared about almost as much harm and sorrow than Voldemort himself.

Another side door opened and a few official looking wizards and witches strode in, taking their seats behind on the places reserved for the jurors. Cornelius Fudge walked in too and sat with a stern face behind the slightly elevated desk opposite the single chair.

The discussions in the room died out and everyone was looking expectantly at the minister. That Fudge himself was leading the prosecution showed how serious the ministry was taking this case. Maybe for once Rita Skeeter had been writing the truth and this whole trial was nothing more than an act to show Voldemort that there would be no soft treatment of his men.

"Bring the defendant in!" Fudge called out.

The same door through which Harry had entered a few minutes ago opened again and a soul-eating chill filled the room, snaking its roots deep into Harry's bones. He had been expecting this though and quickly popped a piece of chocolate into his mouth. Still he was not able to completely chase the chill and the terrible pictures, which were running by in front of his inner eye. Like in a muggle film, he saw how Cedric's open, dead eyes were staring at him, observed how a green flash of magic from Snape's wand hit Sirius. All this set to the sound of his parent's screaming when they were killed.

He did his best to ignore the pictures and the screams.

"It's only the dementor's doing. It will be gone, once they are out again," he whispered to himself so silently, that no one else could hear him.

As on command, a tall creature, wrapped in an all consuming black robe, glided into the room, followed by two others, leading an exhausted looking Snape into the room. A last Dementor made the end of the small procession.

Snape looked awful, Harry thought. The Potions Master only just seemed to hold himself upright, as if his whole strength would have been stripped from him. His skin looked gaunt and spanned tightly over sharp cheekbones. The usual arrogant, piercing eyes were dulled and haunted and a deep line of stress had built on his sweaty forehead. There was nothing left of his former proud demeanour and he looked like a mere shadow of a human being.

"Merlin, Severus," Dumbledore groaned pained.

Hermione bent over to Harry, whispering behind her hand: "I've never heard of four dementors used in guarding one single prisoner. It really looks like they are going to use Professor Snape as an example."

Snape was not putting up any resistance as the dementors, who did more mainstay than lead him, sat him upon the chair. The way the man looked right now he would probably not be able to put up any resistance. The two dementors even had to hold his too weak arms in place on the arm rests, where the chains instantly glowed golden, snaking themselves around the prisoner's forearms and lower legs, tying them effectively to the chair. Snape's head limply hung forward and only after the dementors had left the room did he lift it with a great effort, unsuccessfully trying to suppress a shudder that ran through him.

"Severus Snape. You have been charged with using one of the three Unforgivable curses against another wizard, leading to the death of said wizard. Is there anything you wish to say to defend yourself?"

Snape took a shuddering breath, directing his gaze at Fudge. He blinked twice and even managed to straighten his back and shoulders.

"I did not kill a fellow wizard," he whispered hoarsely, "only Sirius Black. He was scum and certainly not something deserving to be revered at as a human being. With my act I have done a favour to the Ministry for which I should not be sitting here."

Harry balled his fists and a low growl escaped his lips as he tried to hold back his anger at this despiteful man.

"Harry," Hermione warned instantly. "I have promised the Headmaster that you will behave and I plan in keeping my promise, even if I have to bind you to the chair."

"Chill out, 'Mione," Harry hissed angrily. "I am not going to do attack him here." Instead he glared with loathing at Snape's back, willing to kill him by the strength of his stare. And the imagination how he would be individually ripping out Snape's finger and toenails with a knife did wonders to calm his frenzying nerves and boiling anger.

"This is correct," Fudge commented Snape's words. "The ministry has been trying to get hold of Sirius Black for a long time, yet this doesn't excuse the use of an Unforgivable curse. If we allow free use of those curses and throw them around at every opportunity possible, then we're not any better than the one-who-shall-not-be-named. Which brings us to the next point of this peculiar situation. It is known to us that you have been an active death eater once and only Albus Dumbledore's vouch has kept you out of Azkaban back then. Yet you have been presented with several conditions, some of them being that you shall remain under constant supervision by Professor Dumbledore and above all, never use one of the unforgivable curses. You have been warned that any offence to those conditions would bring you to Azkaban and in case of the Unfvorgivables you'd be getting the immediate kiss."

A surprised murmur rolled over the crowd. Agreeing voices were to be heard, as well as outraged ones. The sentence of the kiss was still pretty controversial, even though the agreeing voices were more numerous now. Harry smiled in satisfaction. No matter if Snape survived this day or would be losing his soul, his name would forever be soiled with the courtesy of Rita Skeeter. He looked over to the reporter, whose magical quill flew incessantly over the parchment, her eyes darting from Fudge to Snape's face.

Snape shifted slightly in his chair and Harry observed with worry how well the Potions Master seemed able to move in those chains. No matter how helpless the teacher looked at the moment and to what point Harry loathed him, Snape had always injected a small dose of fear in him. Especially after he had witnessed the man commit cold-blooded murder, laughing about it afterwards.

Hermione seemed to read his worries and again she bent over. "The chains are magically enhanced. There is no way he will get out by himself."

"Let's hope so," Ron said from his other side. "This is how I like him best. Tied up like roast meat."

Dumbledore had either not heard their discussion or he chose to simply ignore it. He just rose from his chair, his glance going from Snape to Fudge. "I would like to have a word concerning this affair, if you would allow."

Fudge regarded the old Headmaster for a moment with clear suspicion. He didn't look happy at all that Dumbledore got involved in Snapes' trial. As if he feared for Dumbledore to vouch again for the Potions Master or clear him otherwise, which would result in getting the man get away unpunished – again. Another sign for the assumption that the outcome of the sentence had been decided upon, long before the actual trial ever happened.

"You've got one minute, Dumbledore," he finally relented.

The Headmaster gave a short nod of thanks and let his inquiring glance move slowly over the jurors, before fixing it upon Fudge again.

"I have vouched for Severus Snape some years ago, because he had then supplied the ministry and myself with important information about Lord Voldemort." A collective gasp went through the crowd at the careless mention of the name. Dumbledore didn't even flinch at their reaction though and continued unwavering. "This information has saved many lives. I do not support him in any way concerning the matter for which we are here today, but we shouldn't overlook the special circumstances involved and speak the verdict in regard of those. I am asking of the jurors to take into account the whole picture and not only the use of the Unforgivable curse."

Harry almost toppled off his chair as he understood Dumbledore's words.

"Forget it, mate," Ron warned, while he and Hermione held their hands on his arms in a silent reminder to stay down. "You can talk to the Headmaster after the trial."

"Professor Dumbledore has surely realised too, that this trial is nothing but a farce. You can't fault him for trying to keep Snape from the kiss," Hermione argued too. But Harry didn't have to worry, for it was Snape himself who destroyed all attempts Dumbledore made by laughing out loud and hoarsely. The man in the chair in front of them turned his head slightly, not being able to look at them directly.

"Are you trying to save my neck now, Dumbledore? How overly Gryffindor of you. Unfortunately, I wouldn't be here at all without your generous help, now would I? Black was like a pest in my life and the life of every decent wizard he met, and I have only erased this pest. No matter what sentence I will be receiving, it was worth it and I would without any hesitation again use an Unforgivable against anyone who is only getting on my nerves and standing in other people way."

Harry was decidedly shocked. And he was not alone. The whole room had grown so quiet that not even the fall of a needle would have gone unnoticed. The people sitting in the room seemed to have forgotten how to breathe, hearing this open threat.

"Severus!" Dumbledore finally called out, a sharp warning in his tone.

"Mister Snape," Fudge thundered now. "Are you aware of what you just said? You would again use an Unforgivable curse to get rid of people standing in your way?"

Snape only looked at him as if he would be thinking real hard about something for a split second, and when he spoke again his voice had once more become a hoarse whisper. His amusement and excitement from before had disappeared as if someone had switched off the light. "No, Sir. I only wanted to protect the students. Wasn't this you wished for? To get hold of Sirius Black, dead or alive?" His voice was slightly wavering, like the one of a child that had been scolded for something it didn't understand.

Fudge just gaped at Snape at that. Only one minute ago, Snape had truly spit venom and now he was again the haunted, intimidated shadow of a man that had entered the courtyard, supported by two dementors. When the Minister became aware of the prolonged silence, he cleared his throat loudly. He bent forward and looked intently at Snape, as if he was searching for something in the other's eyes. Finally, as if he had found confirmation in Snape's face, he straightened up again with a furious gleam in his eyes.

"Mr. Snape. I think there is no use in continuing this questioning. We have heard and seen all that is necessary to determine the sentence." He addressed the audience. "The jurors and I will be going to discuss the verdict now. Since the dementors will be guarding the prisoner, making it quite uncomfortable here, I suggest that you go to the welcoming lounge where refreshments will be served. The court secretary will let you know when we have come to a verdict."

Harry had listened to Fudge, but his eyes had rested on Snape for the whole time. The Potions Master had sacked in on himself again and at the mention of the dementors, a violent shudder had run through his body.

T.B.C.

**BIG THANKS AGAIN TO MY GREAT BETA SLYTHERIN SILVER SNAKE!**


	17. the trial 2

Be assured, I WILL continue this, even if I think less and less of my translating skill, as the fic advances. If it were not for Slytherin silver snake, this thing would be basically unreadable, I'm afraid. She's a great beta and my only hold, to not throw the whole thing aside. But then again I probably wouldn't do that to all those who were kind enough to review. Being a lazy reviewer myself, I really do appreciate all those nice comments and I think that I have an obligation towards all the reviewers who want to see this finished.

The German version is a bit hanging too, because the plot became quite complicated in a way that it needs a lot of thinking, so that it stays plausible, yet doesn't stuck in place. So, please be patient with me. I will try not to let you wait you so long anymore until the next instalment is up. Again I deeply apologize.

Chapter 16:

_The trial 2:_

"It won't be long before they call us back in. Snape will lose his soul quicker than he can say detention", Ron cheerily said, as they were led out of the courtroom through a centred entrance.

Hermione turned around and hissed at him to shut up, while she indicated to the headmaster with her head.

Ron understood her silent reproach that his joy over Snape's immediate demise would sadden Dumbledore, who was walking in front of them, sided by McGonagall, and he instantly blushed, lowering his head in embarrassment.

McGonagall also sent him a reproachful glance over her shoulder before she turned to the headmaster. "Severus is not being himself, Albus. Something is wrong with him. You must have noticed his unusual mood swings, like we all did. The jurors must have seen it too… Severus' difficult and dangerous life must have caught up with him. I'm afraid that he finally broke under the strain. He's ill and Fudge saw that too. Severus is already being punished enough by his condition and the ministry will not sentence a…"

She paused and briefly closed her eyes, as if she'd just came to a devastating conclusion by herself. " They will not sentence a crazy man to get the dementor's kiss, when his crimes were committed in his insanity."

Harry meant to protest that this was hardly an excuse, and that Snape was guilty as sin, but Dumbledore's head jerked up at McGonagall's last words and he looked at her with a glimmer of hope in his eyes. "You really think so? Yes, yes you could be right about that."

Dumbledore's suddenly hopeful face stole any protest Harry could have spoken out, yet the glimmer in the old wizard's eyes vanished as fast as it had appeared. "Severus looks dreadful. He never handled the presence of dementors very well and they seem to keep him under constant surveillance."

"It could be worse," McGonagall reassured. "In his current situation it's a blessing for him to have become insane, having developed a sort of numbness to his self incrimination. This way, the dementors cannot do any more damage."

"What do you mean by that, Professor?" Hermione asked.

The older witch turned around, without slowing down. "Severus has always felt guilty. He has done terrible things under Voldemort and has regretted this dearly. He has, of course, also done a world of good and saved numerous people's life. A fact, which under normal circumstances, was giving him some kind of emotional balance, but exactly those good memories would be sucked out by the dementors. There were not too many of them to begin with, and this emotional cushion would be ripped from him in a split second, bringing up to the surface all his self loathing and guilt. For people with such great regrets, the pictures and sounds of a violent past are difficult to handle. If Professor Snape is becoming insane, or loses his guilt, then he will not be as prone to those pictures. They don't hit him with such a vehemence then."

Harry thought about McGonagall's words for a moment and just wanted to respond, as the forward movement of the crowd around them stopped abruptly because too many people tried to squeeze themselves out through a narrow doorframe that led into a great oval room.

Once inside, the spectators were gathering into small groups, chattering, while some employees walked around, carrying tableaux with mugs, holding them high above their heads, as they had to squeeze through some larger groups of people.

"But he deserves to suffer," Harry commented on McGonagall's words, obstinately. "He killed my godfather." He faced Dumbledore, who had come to a halt besides him. "And how could you go on, trying to palliate the whole thing?"

"Mr. Potter!"

Dumbledore lifted his hand in a placating gesture. "It is all right Minerva. I have already anticipated such a question."

He regarded Harry seriously over the rim of his half-moon spectacles. "I did not 'palliate the whole thing', Harry. Like I did state in court, I do disagree on the murder of another human being as much as you do, but I will do all I can, so that the ministry is not punishing a crime with something that is a hundred times worse. And it's not even important that Severus is my friend and that I don't want to see him as a soulless piece of meat. What is unacceptable is that the Ministry is using foul means in the name of justice, which are almost as bad as what any Death Eater is capable of. There is still the probability that the ministry has called spirits which they can't get rid of anymore, by associating with the dementors."

The headmaster then sighed. "Besides, it does look like the sentence had been decided a long time ago, and this trial is only held under the camouflage of justice. This too, goes against everything that I believe in. Many times have I seen men, who had appeared guilty at first, only to prove innocent in the end. Just as often, perfectly unsuspected people were culpable of the most horrendous evils. Just remember Draco's father, or Quirrel, whom nobody would ever have dreamed to doubt on. You yourself have suspected Professor Snape, but in the end Severus has even saved your life. You shouldn't forget that. Things are often not as they seem and everybody has the right to explain him or herself. Everybody."

Harry didn't reply anything but answered Dumbledore's look unwaveringly, folding his arms stubbornly over his chest. Snape had saved his life because of the debt he had had towards his father, and not out of gentleness or even because he might have had the slightest care about his fate. Harry was not exited about dementors himself, but in this case he was more than willing to make an exception.

Dumbledore finally broke eye contact, when a Ministry employee, carrying a tableau, moved closer, offering fresh pumpkin juice to them. Dumbledore waved the offer off and the others also declined, making the man move on to the next group of people.

"If you would excuse me now, children. I think I just spotted Alastor and I would like to have a word with him."

With those words, the headmaster disappeared among the crowd, followed closely by McGonagall.

"How much longer do they plan to continue their discussion?" Ron called out, after an hour of boring and useless waiting. "It can't take that long for them to find out that Snape deserves the kiss."

Ron hadn't been impressed at all by Dumbledore's speech and still firmly believed that the potions master deserved nothing less than the worst possible sentence. Then, Snape's conviction would at least have something good, he had explained, since he would win his bet, being able to finally buy the book about Quiddich, on which he had had an eye on for so long. After that explanation, Hermione of course basically exploded, yelling at him, how he could even think of gaining profit with the life of another human being. Then she had crossed her arms indignantly over her chest and turned the other way.

"But it's only Snape," Ron had stuttered slightly confused, yet Hermione had not gifted him with the least bit of attention after that.

Dumbledore was still chatting with numerous wizards, who seemed to show up again and again, addressing him. Harry briefly wondered where Remus Lupin had ended up. It would have been nice if the werewolf could have joined them, but Harry hadn't seen his former teacher since the beginning of the trial. He would probably be waiting somewhere in a dark spot, away from the crowd.

The waiting was quite testing on Harry's nerves too, but contrary to Ron, he didn't complain about it loudly and merely fidgeted nervously.

This, again, seemed to unsettle Hermione, until she could not keep quiet any longer. "Blimey, Harry. Would you please calm down? You're making me nervous."

"Sorry," Harry murmured briskly, leaning one shoulder against the wall behind him.

A short wizard finally entered the room through the same entrance they had used some time ago, clearing his throat loudly before pointing his wand against his own throat, murmuring "Sonorus."

"Please take your places in the courtroom. The Judges will pronounce the verdict in a few minutes."

As the magical enhanced voice drifted over the crowd, everyone looked up, relief palpable, that the waiting was over at last.

"Finally. Typical desk jockeys. Only they can take so long to agree upon such an obvious verdict. Every normal-thinking wizard wouldn't have needed more than a few minutes for that." With those words, Ron pushed passed the court assistant, who looked at him with an offended scowl.

Harry and Hermione hurried after him, while Hermione threw the short man an apologising shrug.

They were among the first ones to reach the courtroom and climbed between the ranks to their places in the bottom row. Harry was relieved that the dementors had already left. He was not eager to spend one minute more than what was necessary in the same room with those soul-sucking monsters.

The gap, through which they got to their places from this entrance lay slightly sideways and Harry saw that Lucius Malfoy had apparently not left his seat, even with the dementors here. He was still sitting immobile on his bench, both hands on the handle of his walking stick and the expressionless eyes unwavering glued on Snape. From this position, Harry could also see the potions master nearly from his side. The man still seemed to suffer from the recent presence of the dementors. He had his head lowered, eyes shut tightly and his fists were clenched so hard that they trembled a bit.

His right hand was not bandaged anymore and Harry thought he saw a drop of blood fall to the ground, as Snape put pressure on the small injury.

"I just hope that we can watch, when he gets the dementor's kiss," Ron exclaimed just loud enough, so that Snape would surely hear him.

"Oh, shut up for once, Ron," Hermione hissed angrily.

Snape didn't show any visible reaction to Ron's statement except a minuscule twitch of his shoulders. Harry smiled at that. He wanted to see Snape suffer and thanked Ron inwardly. Primary to being executed, that slimy son of a bitch should know what people thought about him. That his death would not be mourned by anyone. Except maybe Dumbledore, who didn't really count since there was still this old story with the debt between them. He only regretted that the dementor's kiss was so fast and painless. Sirius had suffered for twelve years and had been robbed by Snape of every chance to ever live in peace and be happy. Snape should suffer much more for his actions.

Unfortunately, Harry would not be getting his wish. The ministry didn't torture. Normally, Harry would not be someone who thought like this, but the circumstances were hardly normal.

That instant, Dumbledore and McGonagall arrived at their row and sat down. The room was filling fast, and when Fudge and the jurors finally filed in, the last of the wizards and witches were again sitting at their places.

An expectant silence instantly hovered over the crowd as dozens pairs of eyes rested either on the chair in the middle of the arena or the elevated desks before it.

Rita Skeeter poised her quill on top of her parchment and stared, sensation seeking, up to the still standing Fudge and jurors, who were glaring with severe distain down at Snape.

"May all the people in this room, with exception of the defendant, rise? I will be announcing the sentence now."

Harry's pulse sped up as he heard Fudge's words. A rustle of fabric filled the room, as every wizard and witch came to their feet.

"Look at me, defendant!" Fudge ordered and Harry saw the movement of Snape's head as he complied.

"We have carefully discussed your case and have come to a verdict." He made an artificial pause. "Severus Snape, as the result of using one of the unforgivable curses you will be spending the rest of your life in the high security ward in the dungeons of Azkaban. The possibility of an early release or pardon is not given. For the first ten years, you will not be permitted any visitors and your right to an owl is restricted to one every six months. There is no chance of an appeal against this verdict and it will be carried out as from this moment."

To Harry, it looked as if some burdening tension was falling off of Snape. Had this man really been afraid? It seemed impossible that this cold Slytherin even knew what fear was. But then again, Harry supposed that about everybody would fear the prospect of having one's soul sucked out of him or her.

At his right, he heard a relieved "Thank Merlin" from Dumbledore, but from the crowd there were several shouts of protest to be heard.

"Silence in the court!" Fudge called and one after the other, the protests died out. The minister's eyes roamed over the crowd, and in his expression it was clearly written that he would have liked another verdict himself, but had been overruled by the jurors. He glued his glare back upon Snape and his eyes hardened.

"You belong to the worst kind of criminals that exist, Mister Snape and if it would have been for myself, you would at this point already have lost your soul. Unfortunately there are certain points that speak against it. For once, Sirius Black was indeed a searched criminal and it is not to tell how many people he may have killed whilst free."

Harry clenched his fists. Sirius never killed anyone, neither before nor after his stay in Azkaban. Fudge, however, continued unwaveringly: "Besides all that, the jurors, as well as myself, have gotten the impression that you're not under complete control of all of your mental means."

"Why don't you say it as it is," Ron snorted. "The man has completely lost it."

"Because of this, it is well possible that you have not realized the extent of your acts to the time you committed them. Contrary to the dark side, the ministry is not cruel and knows about mercy. We will not submit a sick man to the dementor's kiss. However it is exactly this liability that makes you the more dangerous. You have always been a wizard with a strong tendency to the dark arts, as I have been informed, and now you have apparently lost the control to stay on the right side. You have to be kept away from the world and I will make sure that you're securely locked and will not pose any more threat to the wizard and muggle community." He looked up from Snape. "Call the dementors in to bring the defendant back to his cell!"

The door to their side opened again. Like before, the four dementors floated in, robbing away every warmth and joy of living.

The four beings floated to the chair, and two of them grabbed Snape by his arms with white, bony hands. The chains glowed golden once again before they fell limply off his arms and legs, letting go of their prisoner. All semblance of vigour seemed to leave Snape when the creatures touched him. They practically lifted him to his feet and led the staggering man out of the room.

As soon as the door closed behind them, Fudge and the jurors rose from their chairs and left the room as well.

The spectators also got up from their chairs, now that the spectacle was over. Some, like Lucius Malfoy, strode purposefully out of the next exit, whilst others remained standing in small groups, discussing the sentence.

Dumbledore and McGonagall stood up as well, and with Ron, Hermione and Harry following, they stepped down into the arena.

McGonagall strode with a firm step to the exit, Ron and Hermione following her at her heels, discussing and arguing wildly about the sentence and Ron's bet.

Only Dumbledore had suddenly disappeared.

Searching, Harry turned around and spotted the headmaster by the chair with the chains. The old wizard looked sadly down at the now empty chair, and he gently ran one hand over the armrest of the wooden furniture, where shortly before the arm of the potions master had been.

His glance travelled down to the ground and then he squatted down and traced his fingers over the stony floor, looking like he was trying hard to hold back some tears.

After a few moments, the headmaster seemed to take notice from Harry and straightened up, while he schooled his emotions again. Now, Harry saw why Dumbledore had held his hand on the ground. He had covered a few drops of blood, which must have fallen there from the injury on Snape's right hand.

"Come, Harry," Dumbledore said with heavy voice, while he came to his side. "Let's go home."

T.B.C.


	18. vacation's end

Warning: More cursing from now on.

Chapter 17

_Vacations end:_

Harry leaned backwards into the grass with a relaxed sigh, his arms casually crossed behind his head. Lazily, he observed the clouds as they slowly went by in the blue sky above him.

"That was a great race, Harry", commented Ron, who was lying beside him in a similar pose, his words slightly slurred because of the blade of grass on which he was absently chewing.

"A race which I won," Harry reminded Ron, amused.

"Doesn't matter. I'll beat you tonight in chess as revenge."

Was it possible to hear a shrug in a voice? Because even though Harry still had his eyes directed at the sky above, he was certain that Ron had just done so. That was probably because he knew his friend so well. He smiled thankfully. Already, more than three months had passed since his Godfather had died, and even though he would not have believed it at first, Harry had found his joy of life again. Of course, thinking of Sirius and about the fact that he would never be seeing him again still hurt. Especially the first four weeks at the Dursley's. That had had him missing his Godfather to the point of pure agony.

In the first time after the murder, the O.W.L.s exams had distracted him, and the Gryffindors' general verbal attacks against the Slytherins had helped him work through the pain. With Snape's arrest and prosecution they had the perfect ammunition to shoot at the rivalling house.

In the end, after about the fifth student had landed in the hospital wing because of a fight in front of the potions classroom, Dumbledore had resignedly decided not to let the two houses share any more classes together,

The first two days after the trial, Harry and Ron had nursed loud protests about the, in their eyes, much too mild sentence. But they had let off steam by musing over all the possibilities of bad things that could occur to Snape in Azkaban. From unceasing supervising by the dementors, which would leave the former professor a drooling shadow of a man, hiding in the corner of his cell, while he was slowly loosing the last little bit of sanity, up to any possible torture, which they invented at night in their beds.

Such games did seem to appease the hurting.

Ron's presence also helped Harry immensely, since his friend's hatred for the potions master almost equalled his own. Hermione was still a good friend of course, but such things he just couldn't share with her. She wouldn't understand. She would only be upset and so they preferred to keep it all a secret.

Harry chased those thoughts for the moment and turned over on his belly. He propped his upper body up on the elbows, looking at his friend, who was enjoying the warm rays of the sun with closed eyes.

"I don't remember agreeing to a game of chess."

Ron didn't open his eyes but the corners of his mouth twitched into a half-smile. "You didn't. But if you're not willing to confront me on my strong terrain, then I will put the broom away for the rest of the vacation."

"You wouldn't dare. If I don't practice, we won't win the quidditch cup next year."

"Try me."

"That's blackmail!"

Again that bloody Ron-ish shrug.

"All right", Harry eventually conceded.

Ron opened his eyes and flashed him a toothy grin before he jumped to his feet, picking up his broom in the process. "Come on, let's go home. Mom will come and hunt you down personally, if we're late for dinner. You know how possessed she is with the idea of fattening you up."

Harry could not suppress a groan. Ron's mom was a very caring person. Almost too caring in his eyes. The woman seemed to have made it her personal affair to recompense him for all the years of neglect and absence of parental love. "One should think, that after seven children, her tendency to be a mother hen would have died down somewhat", he sighed, while coming to his feet as well.

"I think it's only getting worse with every new kid. When she picked me up from the train station last month, she honestly started to wipe about my face with her handkerchief, only because there was some dirt on my cheek. Can you imagine the disaster if Malfoy were to see that?"

Harry winced theatrical. "Ouch!"

"Exactly", Ron agreed.

"Ah, there you are. I was just about to send Ginny looking for you two."

"We've been out practicing with the brooms, mom. We're not going to get lost, don't worry", Ron said with annoyance.

"Then sit down now, boys. Dinner will be ready in a minute. I hope you have washed your hands."

"Yes Mom", Ron sighed exasperatedly.

Harry stifled a chuckle. All those little things that Ron thought to be so annoying about his home life were things that happened in every family, and which Harry had never got to live until he had met the Weasleys. Thank God, had the Dursleys finally given up trying to stop him from spending the last few weeks of his vacation with his friend's family? Harry guessed that they were only all too happy to be rid of him faster. Which was quite all right with him. He wasn't too crazy about the time he had to spend in the Dursley's household either.

"I wonder where Percy and Arthur are being held up. They usually never work so long." Molly Weasley's eyes were looking at the magical clock on the wall. The hands indicating Percy and Mr. Weasley were still hefted firmly at the place where the word 'work' was written on the face of the enchanted item.

"Maybe there was some trouble with you-know-who", Fred suggested and immediately Mrs. Weasley's mouth set into a worried thin line. "You think so? I hope not. Attacks on muggles and wizards alike have grown over those past months."

"And that idiot of Fudge is still refuting the reappearance of the-one-whose-name-sounds-like-a-brand-of-crackers", George provided, lightly.

"George Weasley! I do not tolerate such a language at my table!"

Ron and Harry chuckled both at the new calling of the dark lord, ignoring Mrs. Weasley's indignant outburst completely.

"But Mom, his name really sound like this", George said, doing his best imitation of an innocent kid.

"That's not what I meant George. I'm talking about the way you called the minister."

"Why? His name _is_ Fudge, isn't it?" Fred replied, looking no less innocent than his brother.

Even Ginny was giggling now. Only Fred and George managed to look completely serious.

Mrs. Weasley shook her head in exasperation. "I give up. You two are incorrigible."

She started to dish up all different kind of bowls and told them to start eating, since it was not easy to tell when her husband and Percy would be showing up.

When the front door finally opened and the voices of them two filed in, the rest of the family had indeed almost finished dinner.

"That Skeeter is a real plague. I wonder wow much she will pull this one out of proportions again."

"Father, no matter what she'll be writing, she just _can't_ make it any worse than it already is. It's an absolute catastrophe. That's already the second time something like this is happening. The ministry will look like a bunch of incompetent imbeciles. Not to speak of the public trust, which is placed into us to protect the wizarding world of such criminals."

"Be quiet now, Percy. It's not necessary that the others be informed by overhearing us arguing. Especially Harry."

Harry instantly straightened up. What were they talking about? And what did it have to do with him?

Percy and Mr. Weasley stepped through the doorframe and instantly became aware of the worried and expecting faces turned towards them. Percy's eyes narrowed and Mr. Weasley's face fell slightly. Harry didn't miss the short sideways glance Ron's father threw in his direction, and an enormous hand seemed to grip his chest and squeeze it to the point that even breathing became difficult. Something was very wrong, and his instinct told him that it had something to do with him.

"You heard us." It was no question.

"What happened, dear?" Molly Weasley asked nervously. "Have there been more murders?"

Mr. Weasley shook his head in denial and let himself fall into a vacant chair by the table. "No, that's not it. Nobody has been hurt but something happened, which might turn out to be much worse, even if not directly."

"What happened?" Ron pressed.

"There has been another jail-break at Azkaban", Percy answered darkly. "The first time it happened was already bad enough for the reputation of the prison. But a second time in such a short period will significantly put its security into question."

The hand around Harry's chest squeezed even harder and suddenly the short sideways glance of Mr. Weasley made sense. He already knew the answer to his next question, yet he still heard it leave his mouth. "Who broke out?"

Mr. Weasley fixed him with his eyes and forced a smile on his face, failing miserably in putting confidence into his expression. "Severus Snape."

"Bloody fucking hell!"

A small, dusty fountain whirled up, as the stone, which Harry had been throwing away in anger, hit the dry dirt of the ground.

"Harry, please calm down."

"I don't want to calm down, Ron. That blasted son of a bitch is out. Sirius' murderer is on the loose again." Harry was mad like hell, and he wanted to rant. Right after Mr. Weasley's announcement he had stormed out, not trusting himself in his fury for the safety of the Weasley's furniture. So he contented himself to throw pebbles at grass, bushes and other equally offensive things.

Snape had escaped his penalty. Just now, as Harry had started to befriend the thought that Snape may be punished worse by prison than by the kiss.

"Malfoy has testified, to have gotten an owl with the papers for Snape's temporary transfer into the ministry prison cells for further questioning, together with the plea of taking the affair into his hands. He had further told the officials that he had handed Snape over to a couple of Aurors, once back in London. He said that it was not the first time that he had gotten such mail. Before, his good name had been helpful to handle delicate situations fast and without public uproar. He had only thought that the ministry wouldn't want for any reporters to get wind of the transfer. Snape's case was at the moment of high interest in the public eye", Arthur Weasley, who had followed the boys outside, said.

Ron's disparaging snort showed perfectly what he held of this excuse.

"Malfoy, of course, doesn't remember the names of the Aurors, who took Snape from him", Mr. Weasley growled.

"Voldemort got Snape out of Azkaban", Harry insisted.

"But why should he do such a thing?" Ron asked. "He never cared a bit about the deatheaters who were rotting away in Azkaban and the greasy Git wasn't even loyal to him. Surely Voldemort has found out by now that Snape spied for Dumbledore."

"Maybe, maybe not – wouldn't surprise me in any case. Yet, Snape knows a lot of secrets about the headmaster and the order. That alone is reason enough to free him, only to get a hold on that knowledge. Besides, Snape seems to hate Dumbledore as much as Voldemort does, after the headmaster turned him over to the ministry. I don't doubt for a minute that he will spill that knowledge."

T.B.C.


	19. Back in Hogwarts

Chapter 18

_Back in Hogwarts:_

Ever since he had been eleven years old, Harry had always looked with anticipation towards the beginning of school. Yet this time, his excitement had been drastically dampened. Snape had not been caught again and since his escape from Azkaban one week ago, he seemed to have vanished from the face of earth. The Daily Prophet had published a long article, in which they talked about the possibility that Snape himself had constructed this plan for escape as a precaution, even before he had been arrested, and that an unknown collaborator had sent the false document to Malfoy.

The latter had, of course, in an interview expressed his sincere apologies and regret that he had unwillingly helped a dangerous criminal to escape. He had even donated a generous amount of money to the ministry's Auror corps as a sign of his willingness to help recapture the man as soon as possible. After that, nobody even looked the wrong way at Malfoy anymore and the ministry even made an official apology to the man for having been pulled into this affair.

Upon hearing this, Mr. Weasley had railed loudly about the officials who would not even see a bribe if it did a belly dance in front of them.

Mrs. Weasley, however, had determined not to let any of this spoil the mood of everyone and had therefore never mentioned Snape's escape again for the whole week, acting as casually as possible, even if Harry caught her throwing him worried glances every now and then.

"I expect you all to study hard so I will not be getting any owls with complaints from Dumbledore", she now demanded sternly, with her arms braced against her hips, while they waited at Platform 9 ¾ for the Hogwarts express.

"Mom, you're mistaking us for Fred and George", Ron pointed out. "And they're not even at Hogwarts anymore."

Mrs. Weasley took a deeply relieved breath, as if this was a thing to bless every deity for. The twins had graduated last year. Harry only feared for their mother, that, contrary to what she seemed to think, this would not be the end of complains about them. The two had, with help of the money Harry had given them after the Triwizard tournament, loaned a small shop, where they followed their dream and hobby of inventing and selling new joke articles.

"At least with those two I only got complaints about damaged school propriety or upset students and teachers. With you, all I get regularly are letters telling me that you have been threatened, hurt or kidnapped," she answered with a reproachful look.

"As if it's our fault", Ron muttered.

"Ron, Harry, Ginny", someone called them over from the train. Hermione waved merrily to them from the inside of her compartment through an open window.

"We have to go now, Mom", Ron said with a grin. "See you in a year." He planted a fleeting kiss on his mother's cheek, gripped his trunk and disappeared in the crowd without any more delay.

"That Boy", Mrs. Weasley sighed with a shake of her head. "Well then, you'd better get going as well, or the train will be leaving without you in the end."

Ginny hugged her mother tightly, before she followed her brother. Mrs. Weasley turned to Harry. "Please take good care of yourself, Harry. You-know-who is still after you and Snape's escape is perturbing too. I am very worried about you all."

"Don't worry, Mrs. Weasley. Nothing is going to happen to me and I will also have an eye on Ron and Ginny."

The older witch smiled and hugged Harry briefly, like she had done with her children, while she planted a kiss on his cheek. "Be careful, dear."

Harry quickly found the compartment that Hermione had reserved. He pushed his trunk under the seat besides Ron's and lifted Hedwig in her cage onto the shelf above the window.

He had barely taken a step back when he found himself engulfed by the arms of a frizzy-haired Gryffindor girl.

"It's so great to see you again, Harry", Hermione laughed. She held him at arms length and looked him over critically. "Are you all right?"

Harry nodded. Right after the article about the jailbreak had been published in the Daily Prophet; she had contacted them to ask if Ron's father would know more and if the news were true in the first place. Hermione, like them all, had learned the hard way that Rita Skeeter had a strong tendency to embellish her articles, not being very exact with the truth whilst doing so. Harry and Ron had answered her letter by telling her everything they knew.

"I'll be perfectly fine, once Snape is caught again, Hermione," he answered bitterly. "And I hope that this time he's getting the kiss for his escape."

Hermione nodded sadly. The fact that she didn't contradict Harry showed how worried she was about him.

Arrival at Hogwarts was no different than every other year, mocking the events that had happened there only a few months ago, by its normality. Hagrid gathered all the first years around him, while the rest of the students climbed into the horseless carriages that would bring them to the school.

Like every year, the Great Hall was adorned by thousands of candles, floating in mid air and the teachers were all sitting at the head table, with the exception of McGonagall, who would bring in the first years. A short, white-haired man, looking even older than Dumbledore, sat at the left side of the table, where up until now Snape's place had been. His face was wrinkled and his pose slight bent over, testimony of a spine bent under the weight of many years. To Harry's astonishment, Arabella Figg sat between the headmaster and Remus Lupin. Harry had, since a year ago, guessed that the old woman was part of the order. Yet seeing her here came as a surprise nonetheless.

Dumbledore sat with his high held head and squared shoulders, portraying one of his eminent smiles as he warmly regarded the arriving students, who filed in whilst chattering loudly. He looked no different than ever, but Harry had the impression that he seemed kind of tense, when one cared to look closely enough.

Only when all the children were seated and Dumbledore had lifted his hand to silence the crowd, did McGonagall step into the Hall, wearing her usual stern look. A horde of insecure and slightly frightened looking children followed her, gazing in awe at the enchanted ceiling.

The sorting was also like usual, and Harry observed the whole thing with detached interest.

His attention grew only after the new students sat at their respective tables and Dumbledore rose to his feet.

"Dear students." The old wizard waited for a moment until the still continuing chatters died out and he had the complete attention of all the pupils. "I would like to welcome you all at Hogwarts. Especially those of you who are here for the first time." He glanced meaningful over the rim of his spectacles at the first years, which were sitting on the front-end of the long table.

"As the students who were here last year already know; we do have two vacant places among the staff. Because of this, I'd like to introduce you to Arabella Figg, who will be teaching defence against the dark arts this year, assisted by Remus Lupin, who will help her with the more taxing sides of the job, namely the use of bodily strength and magic which is mostly quite straining."

The older woman rose to her feet and greeted the students with a nod and a smile.

"Since some... unfortunate happenings last year, because of which our potions master and head of Slytherin is no longer able to fulfil his duty, I have been able to commit Professor Benjamin O'Malley on short notice. He has held that position at Hogwarts some seventeen years ago and has kindly agreed to help out until we have found a more permanent solution. He will also be the person of confidence for the house of Slytherin during that time."

"I sure hope that they will find someone else", Ron whispered. "That guy gives the impression like he's not even able to lift a cauldron without help. It looks as if they were roaming through England's retirement homes, to find new teachers."

Harry answered with a polite smile but didn't really pay attention to Ron, keeping his attention on Dumbledore who looked a bit tense and strained, especially when he mentioned his former potions teacher, even if he did hide it quite well. Harry decided to talk to the man as soon as possible about Snape's breaking out. It wouldn't surprise him, if the headmaster had more information than the general public did, and Harry was determined to do all he could for Snape to get his rightful punishment.

"Besides assisting Arabella Figg, Remus Lupin will also help Hagrid guard the forbidden forest. The times are very insecure and I prefer to have an additional pair of eyes around. For this reason I must empathize again that no student will go near the boarder of the school without a teacher."

Harry smiled inwardly. He had been in frequent owl-contact with Remus Lupin and had therefore known about his plans this school year. The werewolf had written that the headmaster was very worried about Voldemort, and feared that the dark wizard may one day even dare to tempt an approach on school grounds. Also, since the order was weakened because they had lost of two of its warriors, Dumbledore wanted to make sure that at least the students were safe and secure.

However, Harry had been able to read between the lines. Dumbledore was no fool. He must, like himself, have come to the conclusion that Snape had been freed by Voldemort and he was certainly worried about the information Snape could give the dark lord.

For the rest of the day, Harry tried unsuccessfully to catch the headmaster alone. After having settled into his dormitories again, he and his two friends went out to search for the man.

Their search ended by standing in front of the stone gargoyle, counting off the names of any candies that they could think of. Just as they were ready to give up, Nearly Headless Nick floated around a corner.

"Sir Nicolas!" Hermione called out.

The ghost approached them, smiling benevolently. "Hello you three. Did you have pleasant vacations?"

"Yes", Hermione answered without much interest. "Do you know the new password for the headmaster's office?"

"Certainly. ‚Peppermint drop' but at the moment, the gargoyle will not let you through, even if you know the correct password. The staff is in a meeting and the headmaster has left orders with the statue, not to let anyone in."

"That can't be real!", Ron shouted. "What if it's an emergency? The school could burn down for all I know and we couldn't even notify him."

"If it were an emergency…" The ghost of the Gryffindor house eyed the students sceptically, "…then he'd know about it, or you could send an house elf. They get around every barrier."

Harry sighed out loud, "We'll come back later then."

"That won't do any good. The headmaster has to leave for the ministry right after the meeting. You'll have to wait for tomorrow. Or why don't you go see professor McGonagall? She's your head of house, after all."

"Yes, all right. Thanks Nick." With one last disappointed glance at the gargoyle, Harry walked off with his friends.

At night, Harry lay awake for a long time, his thoughts roaming around Snape, the jailbreak and Dumbledore's eventual plans. With those thought still occupying his mind, he finally fell asleep around two o'clock in the morning.

T.B.C.

A/N: I know that this chapter was a bit lame. Lots of information and nothing really happening. Unfortunately this is part of the fic, where it can't be helped. There will be more action and Snape later on, promise.

Thanks to Slytherin silver Snake for betaing. Hugz


	20. The dream

Chapter 19

_The dream:_

The great room, with the high, coloured glass windows, was brightly light, yet it was filled with an atmosphere of threatening darkness. All light was being pushed back into submission, making it lose all its strength to enlighten the place. To one end of the long, big room sat a tall figure with a face that bore hardly any resemblance to a human's.

Long spidery fingers curled around the armrest of a hefty, throne-like chair, as it's occupant leaned forward to glare with distain at the figure curled in a foetal position at his feet. At the side of the cowering man in grey trousers and shirt stood another man, who had long, silvery-white hair. Lucius Malfoy held his head high, but his eyes rested with contempt on the fallen wizard at his feet.

"Stand up and look at me, Severus."

The man on the floor seemed not to have heard the words at first. He didn't react for several minutes, until he finally moved and manoeuvred himself awkwardly, as if in great pain, into a kneeing position.

Just as he lifted his upper body off the marble ground and manoeuvred it into an upright position, a deep, wheezing cough stopped him. In agony, he brought his hand up to grasp the shirt over his chest, as the spasm shook his body.

When he finally managed to rise to his knees, and the coughing subsided, his eyes were still lowered and he gasped raggedly for breath.

"Severus, Severus", Voldemort reprimanded in a low voice. "Azkaban has not done you any good, as I see." A vicious smile grew around his thin, translucent lips. "That's good."

Severus Snape didn't answer as he was still occupied with getting enough oxygen into his bloodstream.

"I told you to look at me", Voldemort hissed, now angry, lifting his hand slightly in a silent order. Lucius instantly gripped a handful of Snape's hair, brutally pulling the potions master's head up, all the while being unable to ban the disgust from his face, as he was forced to touch the greasy, filthy and dishevelled hair.

Snapes eyes were wide open now. He was drawing heavy, ragged breaths through slightly opened lips. Still, his eyes focused on the man, who now rose graciously from his chair, crouching down, only a few centimetres in front of him. His red, inhuman eyes were at the same level as those of the potions master.

"My dear Severus. My most competent man for anything related to potions", Voldemort whispered in a mock, caring voice. "You have helped me so much over the years, yet you also betrayed me, did you not?" Whilst speaking, Voldemort pulled out his wand. "Crucio!"

The sick man was thrown backwards several meters by the sheer force of the magic that hit him from such close proximity. Once his body came to a stop, he started to writhe and twitch under the hellish agony. The gurgling, yelping sounds that left his throat were hardly recognisable as screams. Snape had simply not enough air left in his lungs to scream.

Voldemort was apparently aware of his former death eater's condition as well and held the curse no longer than a few seconds. Yet, that was enough to leave Snape gasping and almost unconscious, his body still twitching under occasional spasms.

"Enervate!" Voldemort shouted and a small groan left Snape's throat. The dark lord stood again and came over to the fallen man. "You have spied for Dumbledore."

Snape nodded. He didn't seem able to vocalize any words any more. "And you have killed Sirius Black," Voldemort continued in a lurking voice.

Snape tried to collect himself a bit but when the he heard the name of his childhood nemesis, a small chuckle escaped him, the sound ending in another coughing fit. "No big loss", he finally croaked.

"It is said that he was one of my men, which would mean that you have killed a fellow death eater, which will make you be executed on the spot. I hope you are aware of that."

This time, Snape stifled a chuckle but a twisted smirk appeared on his face. "He was no deatheater. He has told me himself."

"And if he was my spy to get information on Dumbledore? He would have denied any connection to me?"

Snape only shrugged, insinuatingly. "Then you would kill me now, which will not make a big difference because you will do it anyway, eventually."

"Why did you kill him?"

Snape's smirk broadened and a strange gleam shone in his eyes. "He was annoying me."

If Voldemort had had eyebrows, they would probably have shot up at this statement. As it was, only his eyes widened in surprise. "He was annoying you?"

"I think he had fleas and he left his hair everywhere."

Voldemort didn't answer that. "And what if he were indeed my spy?"

"Unimportant. He was simply annoying."

"Severus, will you tell us what you know about the order?" Voldemort asked, his voice drawling.

Snape looked straight into Voldemort's reddish eyes and the glimmer in his own disappeared again. "Why should I? You will kill me anyway."

Voldemort smiled. "Indeed, yet your death would be fast and painless. And who knows? If the information you give is valuable enough, then I may just leave you alive for as long as you prove useful to me."

The dark lord paused for a moment, musing about some inner thoughts, before he kneeled down to the crumbled wizard, grapping his shoulders and helping him into a sitting position. His voice morphed into soft, caring tones. The sound of a parent's voice, worried for their frightened child. "Severus, if you had one free wish, before I kill you, what would it be? Tell me."

Snape lifted his head again and answered, slightly panting and hoarsely. Still there was a sharp edge to his voice. "I want justice, which I never had. Revenge for a life, which I was never able to live. I have worked for you, my lord. I have done my best, given everything and was merely used. Then I have worked for Dumbledore and was betrayed in recompense!"

In a split second, the sharp edge vanished and Snape's voice became almost whining. "I want my soul back and for once in my life I want to be wanted, not just used. I want to do what I would like and not what others expect me to do. I never want to be used or betrayed again."

Voldemort regarded the pathetic, slumped thing, which once had been a proud wizard, but was now panting again. Snape was neither upset nor whining; it was as if the last few moments of his confession had never happened.

The dark lord's lips curled into a sadistic grin and he pulled Snape carefully towards himself, hugging the other wizard gently. "I will give you your life and your revenge. Nobody will use you again, my Severus." The dark lord was still smiling as he pulled out his wand, holding it against Snape's temple, whispering: "Dormus."

Almost gently, he laid the now sleeping wizard back to the ground and stood up.

"Lucius, see to it that he's cleaned up and healed." His smile broadened and became somewhat more evil. "It may appear as if we have a new member."

"My Lord", Malfoy begun. He hesitated, as if he were deciding if any objection were worth the risk of a crucio, but he then took a deep breath, gathering his resolve and spoke. "I am certain that you have your reasons, my Lord, but is it not dangerous to have him here with us? He admitted it himself. He has spied for Dumbledore. Besides it is obvious that he's not really sane anymore."

Voldemort studied him for a long time as if he were debating with himself if he should punish his death eater for his insolence or explain his own reasons, decided upon the later then.

"It was to expect that Snape's twisted situation would make him crack sooner or later. He's a human being and every human being has a self-conscience and some fundamental needs. They want to be accepted. Snape was mistrusted and had to guard himself constantly against both sides. The only one who had ever shown him the slightest hint of personal interest has been Dumbledore. However, the old fool had practically chased him into my arms before, when he had wiped off the slate that incident with Black, all those years ago. If it hadn't been for that, our dear potions master would never have joined us. It's not in him – he had too strong a conscience. But Snape is a proud man, and that night, in which he had nearly been killed, his pride had been treated like dirt. Dumbledore, somehow, has managed to restore Snape's trust in him, but the jar of trust has since then been cracked. Now it has shattered into thousands of shards. Snape may be a bit insane now, but he is also quite malleable. I give him what he wants, and he will stop at nothing for me. He has certain talents and a knowledge that may prove to be helpful. He is much more valuable living than dead. Now go, and make sure that he's being taken care of. Then return home. The ministry will surely come to question you shortly."

Voldemort's voice had a finality to it, which stole all further doubts from Malfoy. He bowed briskly, pulled his wand and pointed it at Snapes prone body. He levitated the unconscious wizard and let him float behind him out of the room.

Only after the door had fallen close behind them, leaving Voldemort back alone, the latter laughed out loud. "Two to one, my dear Albus. You did it again, chasing Severus into my arms, and I swear to you that this time I will not make any mistakes."

Harry jerked out of his sleep, drenched in sweat, Voldemorts diabolic laughter still echoing in his ears.

T.B.C.


	21. Dumbledore's secret?

Chapter 20

_Dumbledore's secrets:_

As fast and quietly as he was able, Harry slipped from under the covers of his bed, sat up at its edge and put his shoes on. He was certain that this had not been a normal dream; the pictures had been much too real. Voldemort and Malfoy's evilness had been almost palpable, and Snape had looked much too sick and crazy for it to be a mere dream. Besides, it was not the first time that Harry had had visions of Voldemort.

The last time he had, it had been real, and he was as sure of it now as he was then. Yet the implications that this vision brought with it were pretty frightening. If Snape went back to Voldemort's side, and if the dark wizard manipulated the potions master as he planed to do, then not the slightest information that Snape knew would remain a secret. No, Dumbledore had to know about this.

"What's goin on, Harry?" Ron murmured sleep drunken

"Nothing, go back to sleep", Harry whispered.

Ron complied all too willingly and turned over to his other side with a grumpy noise, falling back asleep without ado.

Harry threw another glance at the illuminated hands of his watch. Half past four. Well, it didn't really matter. Dumbledore needed to be informed right away. The headmaster himself had specified that Harry should notify him immediately if ever had another vision.

So, Harry threw his coat over his nightshirt, sneaked out of the dormitory, crossed the common room and made his way in direction of Dumbledore's office.

"Peppermint drop", he whispered nervously. The gargoyle instantly moved out of the way and Harry stepped onto the rotating stairs, which brought him in front of Dumbledore's door. He lifted one hand and knocked tentatively at first. Only after he got no response did he take an encouraging breath and pummel loudly against the heavy wood.

This time he didn't have to wait more than two minutes until a sleepy looking Dumbledore opened the door, wearing a grey nightshirt, his hair and beard still ruffled from sleep. "Harry? What are you doing here at this hour?"

"I need to talk to you, headmaster. I had another dream."

At once, all sleepiness fell off Dumbledore and he urged Harry in. "Come in, my boy."

"Would you care for some tea?" he asked politely, his patient words in sharp contrast to the impatient expression that had taken root on his face and which Harry had rarely seen on the old man. He shook his head in neglect.

"I had a vision of Voldemort, Sir."

"Voldemort? What has he done? Was he alone?"

Harry shook his head. "No. Lucius Malfoy was with him... and Snape."

To Harry's surprise, the entire colour drained from the headmaster's face and his eyes widened. "Severus? How was he?"

Harry didn't really know what to make of Dumbledore's reaction. What kind of connection was between those two that the old headmaster liked the ill-tempered potions master to such an extent? The headmaster was still worried about Snape, even though he now was proven guilty of murder, had broken out of prison and was most likely back at Voldemort's side. It was not fair that Dumbledore still cared about Snape so much, seeing as the Slytherin had murdered Sirius.

Part of Harry told himself that Dumbledore must feel responsible towards all his pupils. Almost like a father, and that for that reason he wouldn't hate one of his children because he or she had hurt another one. But another part of him, the part that was slowly becoming angry, told him that for some unknown reason, Dumbledore cared more for Snape than he had ever done for Sirius. For some odd reason, the old wizard held such a strong bond to Snape that he had done everything to protect him from the kiss, even though he had turned him in to the Ministry in the first place. All in all, Dumbledore acted much more loyal towards Snape than Crouch had done towards his own son.

A crazy idea started to take form in Harry's head as he thought about this and he regarded Dumbledore a bit more closely. The crooked nose could be almost the right size; the old man was also as tall as the potions master. Yet the colour of the eyes and his complexion was completly different. But nonetheless, could it be that Snape and Dumbledore were related in some way…? No that was impossible. Dumbledore would not keep something like this a secret. Or would he?

"Harry?" Dumbledore pulled him out of his musings.

Harry shook off the crazy thought and forced his attention back to the dream. "Snape looked quite ill, Sir", he begun and then recounted the Vision as accurately as he remembered, up until Voldemort's order to Malfoy.

Deep in thoughts, Dumbledore stroked over his beard, a strange glimmer in his eyes, which stirred anew anger in Harry, since he interpreted it as clear relief.

"You don't look overly worried. Snape has information about the order and he will spill them out too. Voldemort is no idiot and he'll know how to bring Snape over to his side again. What are you going to do about that?"

Dumbledore patted Harry's shoulder absentmindedly. "I know that you will not understand this, Harry, but for now, I'm just glad that Severus is alive. No matter what may have happened and what sentence he received, I never wanted to see him dead. About the information; we have been aware of the risks since he got out of Azkaban. Therefore, all his information is irrelevant. All we had to do was to change some dates and, in some cases locations. He can't do any real damage."

"But Sir", Harry protested.

"Now, now, Harry. Everything will turn out for the best in the long run but had better go back to bed now. You should try to get some more sleep." With a smile, Harry was gently but firmly shoved out of the office and on the first step of the stairs. "And remember to tell me right away, if you have any more visions."

The door locked behind him, leaving Harry bewildered on the stairs. He wasn't used to such a brusque treatment by the headmaster and his suspicions from before pressed forwards again. Dumbledore showed a concern for Snape, which would be quite typical for a father's worry. But could it be? It seemed absurd, and if the impossible were indeed true then why in the first place would Dumbledore have turned Snape in?

But that wasn't so impossible, if he really thought about it. Dumbledore had a responsibility for all the students and the order, and Harry believed he knew the headmaster well enough to know that the man would use every sacrifice he could to help the light, whilst not endangering the life of the man who he wanted to get out of the way. Maybe that had even been the real reason why Dumbledore had brought Snape into prison, to protect him, since he had clearly started to lose his mind. Even though that thought seemed absurd, that would explain Dumbledore's behaviour.

Deep in thoughts, he made his way back to the dormitories, without falling into any delusions that he would be getting any more sleep this night.

"You can't be honestly believing that, Harry." Ron was, to put it gently, beyond scepticism.

This was the first day in school, and Harry had not been able to pay any attention in class that morning. Nor had he been able to do the same for breakfast, and in lunch he had not been able to eat much. His friends realized that too, of course, but Harry had put off, saving telling them about the vision until later, when they would have time to talk in private about it.

However, as soon as the class was over, they had been going down to the lake and under the shadow of a tree, Harry told them about his dream, Dumbledore's reaction and his suspicion.

"Snape could never Dumbledore's son", Ron protested

"I can't imagine that either", Hermione said, "They are complete opposites."

Ron's eyes flashed triumphantly. "He can't be the headmasters son. They don't have the same last name."

"Blimey, Ron, are you really that thick, or are you just playing it? What century do you live in?" Hermione sighed.

Harry interrupted them before Ron could start another fight with Hermione. "I have never suggested that Snape is his son. Maybe they are related in some other way. Dumbledore's behaviour definitely speaks for it."

"I don't know. I mean it's common knowledge that Dumbledore likes Snape. I think that your theory is pretty far fetched."

"But why does he trust him? That son of a bitch was a death eater and a killer. Nobody in their right mind would trust him, were there not some deeper motivations."

"You're forgetting that it was him who turned Snape in. Or do you have an explanation for that too?" Hermione kept onto her arguments.

"Bloody hell, who knows? Perhaps he simply wanted to protect Snape from Voldemort. Maybe he planned to get him out of prison at a later time, to commit him into an asylum or something of the sort."

"Doesn't look like he had much success with that, did it?" Ron snorted. "You-know-who got Snape anyhow.

T.B.C

Thanks to Slytherin silver snake!


	22. Fears are comming true

Hi people. The beginning of this chapter is something which usually would be a big "No, no" in fic-writing, namely Info-dump. I apologize for that, but I don't want to kill off the plot by boredom, because there would be nothing really important happening for several chapters if I didn't do it that way.

Chapter 21:

Fears are coming true:

The next two weeks passed by uneventfully, if one didn't consider the now-daily reports of attacks on muggles and wizard in the daily prophet. The muggles were looking out for a maniac serial killer and were on highest alert, and only the ministry was still playing everything down as the work of some few scattered death eaters. Towards Harry, Dumbledore had vocalized that Fudge's attitude were more than suspicious. He hadn't said anything more, but neither Harry nor his friends were stupid and had for some times before thought about the possibility that Fudge may be on Voldemort's side. The headmaster, McGonagall, Lupin, and even Hagrid, seemed to become more and more edgy as time passed.

Proving Voldemort's growing strength, Harry's scar had started to hurt him sporadically, a fact which worried him above all else. Thank God the pain had never been more than a bothersome twinge, and had not overly worried the headmaster. The old wizard had contented himself with giving Harry a sleeping draught, so he would get at least some rest during the night. Otherwise, he held him at a distance, not telling him much about the business of the order. When Harry protested about that, Dumbledore had only told him that he didn't want him involved, for the only reason to protect him and keep him out of the danger zone.

Neither Harry nor his friends were really happy that Dumbledore held them at arms length. Lupin's excuse that they were still minors and had seen and suffered too much already from the war didn't console them in the least. Harry knew that it had something to do with Cedric's death, and that Sirius' murder had probably been the crucial point to keep him away from the war, yet he still thought it highly unfair. He, above everybody, had the right to be involved. The fact that the members of the order were seen at Hogwarts more and more often made Harry even angrier.

So they followed their classes with moderate interest. Arabella Figg turned out to have an extensive knowledge about dark arts, which she shared with them, and Lupin's exercises in Magic was just as interesting as they had been in their third year. Harry was very relieved about the old woman. There had been a time before her first class, when he had thought that she would bore them all by showing them pictures of her cats in class, telling them the life story of Missy, Burly, Kitty and all other felines she had ever possessed.

Professor O'Malley was also different to what his fragile appearance let on. Only after the first potions class under him could they have guessed that this man had taught Snape. Compared to the grumpiness and bad attitude of this man, Snape seemed like a sweet ray of sunshine. The old professor seemed to detest his own life so much that he let all his students be at the receiving end of his foul mood, not only the Gryffindors.

After the second week with the new teacher, all the houses had come to the conclusion that this time the house with the least minus points would win the cup.

Unfortunately, this fact angered the Slytherins even more and were it not for Dumbledore's strict hand, an open gang war between the Gryffindors and the Slytherins would have already broken lose in the hallways.

Because of the often-throbbing attacks from his scar, Harry half expected to have another vision at any time. Dumbledore had told him that he had sort of a connection to the dark wizard, and that the stronger Voldemort became, the more Harry would feel this.

Yet, when it happened and Harry had another vision it hit him when he was not expecting it.

He was standing in a douche stall of the boys' common bathroom under the spray of warm water, after having trained outside a bit for himself.

It didn't start with the throbbing to which he had gotten used to, but with a piercing pain that threatened to split his skull.

Both hands pressed tightly against the hurting scar, he skittered down to the ground, a loud moan escaping his lips. His surroundings started to blur and he drowned into darkness, away from the hardness of the porcelain under his skin, the steam in his face and hot water still raining down at him.

After only one second, however, the world around him grew back into focus. Except he wasn't in the bathroom anymore but in the same great room with the high windows in which he had seen Voldemort take Snape back. This time around, there were more people present. Around ten figures in dark cloaks and white masks stood in an irregular semi-circle in front of the throne, on which a domineering Voldemort sat. Siding the high chair of the dark wizard stood Severus Snape, wearing an identical robe as all the other death eaters, his own hood pulled down into his neck and no mask was hiding his face.

Contrary to the last time, Snape looked perfectly healthy again, as he stood there, looking with an almost bored expression into the middle of the death eater's circle. The whole thing had a surreal feeling to it and made Harry experience his fury, upon seeing Voldemort and Sirius' killer, like miles away from his body, even if he could still make it out. It was almost as if that anger did not belong to him, that it was as bodiless as his spirit here. He could not tell from what angle he was observing the scene; it was almost as if he would shift his position constantly without even moving. Like in a dream, he could see all that he wanted at once.

It was a pitiful, almost inaudible whimper that suddenly pulled his attention to the death eaters, and only now did he see the two figures in torn robes that were in their midst. It was a young couple in their twenties. The young man had reddish blond hair and a face full of speckles that reminded Harry strongly of Ron. The man was cursing and spitting in Voldemort's direction, even though he was firmly held by two death eaters. His mate sat sobbing on the marble ground, her maroon hair dishevelled and her amber eyes flushed with tears that were running down her cheeks, whilst she held what was left of her torn robe against her otherwise completely naked form. Both of their bodies bore small wounds and bruises, and her eyes were filled with terror as her husband threw cursed damnations at Voldemort. This, and the traces of blood, smeared on the floor around her, left no doubt about other things the deatheaters had done to her. Harry hoped intently that the blood didn't have anything to do with the baby that she obviously bore in her overly big swollen abdomen.

Somehow, Harry had a terrible feeling of deja vu as he saw the young couple. They were barely older than his parents had been, and the baby was not even born yet. Still, the similarities were not too easily dismissed. Harry shuddered at that thought, yet, in a morbid fascination, his eyes stayed glued upon the tragedy that was displaying in front of him.

"So, my dear Charles", hissed Voldemort. "Are you quite certain that you have no further information for us?"

"Please", the redhead begged. "Let Emma go. She knows nothing."

Voldemort reached with his right hand to his chin, as if to stroke an imaginary beard. "You may even be right about that, yet she can still be useful. Perhaps your tongue would loosen up, if I let my men have some more fun with her, what do you think?"

A loud gasp came from the direction of the woman and the man struggled with even more vehemence against the death eaters who held him. "I have told you all that I know." Desperation was openly written on his face and excelled slowly all his anger, which he had displayed so strongly, only one minute ago. "I only work in Azkaban. I don't know how the Ministry is controlling the dementors. Please let Emma go. She's pregnant and has nothing to do with where I work."

Voldemort seemed to consider the pleas of the man for a minute, before he leaned over to Snape's side.

"What do you think, Severus? Would you be interested to have some fun with our Emma here?"

Snape shrugged listlessly but moved slowly over to the woman. He frowned down at the weeping prisoner as if he were not really sure what to do with her. After a minute under his silent scrutiny the woman lifted her head still sobbing and looked up at him. "P...please, let me go. Don't hurt me anymore."

Something in Snape's eyes changed at her words. It was like a dark cloud had moved over his features and his lips curled into a sneer. Harry recoiled mentally. Snape's eyes were full of a bottomless hatred, born out of a reason that Harry could not comprehend. Not even when Neville blew up another cauldron had Snape's eyes ever glittered so dangerously. He tilted his head slightly to one side and narrowed his eyes.

"Please have mercy. Spare my child at least. She's only a defenceless baby. You cannot hurt her."

Those were her last words. As fast as lightning, Snape pulled out his wand and pointed it at the woman. "Avada Kedavra!"

Harry knew the green stream much too well, as it shot out of Snapes wand and hit the woman square in the chest. Eyes wide, she crumpled dead to the ground.

"No one will ever tell me what to do!" Snape thundered with wild eyes, his free hand clenched in a fist and waving menacingly in front of his face.

"You god damn fucking bastard. I'll kill you!" the redhead hollered, his tear-filled eyes full of hatred, grief and desperation.

Snape whirled around. "Avada Kedavra!"

Voldemort's second prisoner sank dead through the arms of his guards to land in a lifeless heap on the floor.

The death eaters took a startled step back, intimated by Snape's outburst. The potion master looked like a vicious animal at the moment, standing there with a lowered head and heaving chest. The greasy hair hung in strands in front of his face, sticking in places to the sweaty skin, making his black eyes glitter dangerously from beneath it. His body was rigid and his lips curled back into an inaudible growl.

The only one who didn't seem impressed by Snape at all was Voldemort. He only chuckled softly. "My, my, what a temperament, my dear Severus. Looks like we will have to question the boss of our now dead friend Charles after all, even if he's likely to be under more severe surveillance."

As if nothing out of the ordinary had happened he addresses the other death eaters. "Avery, you will observe Mr. Meaby. Find out more about him. Until next new moon, I want to know when he works, sleeps and who is close to him. Malfoy, stay here. All the others can leave."

The death eaters moved towards the exit, taking care not to come too close to the man called Snape, who still stood immobile with a dark scowl on his face. After they all had left, Voldemort addressed the potions master. "Would you be so good and wait for me in your rooms, Severus? I would like to discuss something with you."

Voldemort's tone was friendly and negligible as he spoke to Snape. Different from the voice with the commanding undertone that he had used towards his other deatheaters or even Malfoy.

Snape nodded briskly and left the room with his trademark billowing robes.

"You still doubt, Lucius. I can feel it," Voldemort said, after the door had closed behind Snape. He didn't look at the blond wizard, yet Malfoy still bowed slightly. "Forgive me, my lord, but Snape has become unpredictable. What if he turns against us again?"

Voldemort smirked. "My dear Lucius. Don't speak about things of which you have no understanding. I'm a direct descendant of Salazar Slytherin and I understand the art of manipulation to perfection. Snape is easy to guide through his growing insanity. I can look through him easily. I give him bits and pieces of what he needs and with the right words, I steer him where I want him to be, without him noticing. Just keep in mind to never give an open order. At least until I have gotten him out of his present confusion and have him under my complete control. If you can understand his way of thinking, you have him eating out of your palm and can form him to be what you want, which I plan to do. I use his weakness and fears against him and feed him with enough dependence to keep him in line. He will entangle himself in my web more and more until he can't tell apart what he wants and what I ask of him."

The big salon disappeared; replaced by white tiles, hot steam and water, which was still raining down on his body. Harry felt miserable and hugged his knees, whilst he tried to get control over his feelings, which now that he had left the unreality of the vision, came crushing down with all their might. Snape had killed again and in cold blood. Voldemort would use him and the former professor would be a soulless marionette in his insanity. Voldemort's own little pet. His killer machine.

T.B.C.

Betaed by Slytherin silver snake. THANKS!


	23. New warnings on the wall

Chapter 22

_New warnings on the wall:_

As soon as Harry had ended his report, Dumbledore sank tiredly and sadly into the chair behind his desk. "Charles McGregor and Emma Mithbury. They have been reported missing since two days ago. They both went to school here and were Hogwarts dream couple since their first year; you could never find them without the other close by."

A melancholic smile played around Dumbledore's lips and his gaze wandered to a distant point somewhere above Harry's left shoulder, as he sank into memories. "There even was the rumour that they had hexed their hands together, since they were so hard to separate. Even in class they couldn't function properly without the other." His smile vanished once more. "Emma had an incredible talent for potions, Severus once told me."

"And what will we do now, professor?"

Dumbledore looked back at Harry, his eyes still sad. "We will, of course protect Mr. Meaby. You have probably saved his life and the life of his family, Harry."

"And what will we be doing about Voldemort, and Snape?" The painful look in Dumbledore's eyes as he mentioned the potions master didn't escape Harry. "We know that they will meet again next new moon, in a month. With the time of the kidnapping, we should be able to pinpoint the eventual date of the gathering."

"And what do you want us to do then, Harry?" Dumbledore asked softly. "If we don't know where their meeting point is?"

"They may be meeting again in that salon. I've seen it already twice now."

"And do you know, where that salon is? Regarding your description it could be an old monastery or mansion. There are hundreds of those throughout England."

Harry lowered his head in frustration and anger. He knew that the headmaster was right. Still, the willingness with which the old wizard seemed to dismiss even the thought to try angered him. Withoutwanting to, his suspicion of an eventual relation between the two wizards shot through his head.

The headmaster seemed to feel his hesitation. "If you have another vision then please pay attention to details like wall decoration, pictures in the glass and things like that. Maybe that can help us to find out more."

Harry met Dumbledore's now stern and piercing glance again. "The war against Voldemort has reached a crucial point and we can't afford to act ill-considered. If we see a chance, we will act, but we have to be sure before, do you understand? Too many sacrifices have been brought already and in the future I don't want so many unnecessary ones to be among them."

The sadness had found its way back into Dumbledore's voice, as if the old wizard were speaking from experience, which again hardening Harry's assumption. For a split second he felt pity with the headmaster and wanted to ask straight out if Snape was his son or grandson, but then he remembered that his family had also lost their life for nothing. First his parents, then his Godfather. No matter in what relation Dumbledore stood to Snape, the Slytherin had turned into a monster and had to be stopped as urgently as Voldemort himself. The McGregors too, had been innocent victims, whose families were now left alone and it was Snape whose fault that was.

With new determination, Harry rose from his chair and faced Dumbledore's desk. "If that's all, headmaster, then I would like to go now. I have quite some homework to do still."

Dumbledore nodded. "But please remember..."

"I know", he interrupted a bit more conciliatory "I will come and see you, if I have another vision."

It's quite funny, that when you expect something bad to happen at any time, the days, hours and minutes in which nothing takes place grow into an eternity of tense torture. Eventually, in the end, you hope for the bad thing to happen, only to loose this tension.

It was exactly this feeling that followed Harry for the next few days. He waited around the clock in tense expectation that another vision would rip him away from the safety of Hogwarts, into the cruelty of Voldemorts world. He knew very well that there was absolutely nothing that he could do against it.

Yet, nothing of the sort happened. Much more, he became a witness of something much worse than a simple vision.

They were just coming from dinner and were on their way to the Gryffindor common room as a crowd of students in the corridor before them blocked the passage. They all looked frightened and confused, whispering nervously with one another, whilst directing their eyes unbelieving to the wall on their left.

"What is that supposed to mean?", a voice in the crowd right before them whispered.

"I don't know. Sounds like a threat to me", another answered.

"But what does the toad mean?"

"Patil went to get the headmaster."

"Do you think that the two S's stand for Severus Snape?", one of the girls piped up, quieting with her question all the other voices.

Harry elbowed his way through the others, whom were for the moment quietly gaping students, followed closely by Hermione and Ron.

When he got clear sight of the mysterious wall he stopped dead with a gasp on his lips, barely registering how his friends pushed through the crowd as well, staring also open mouthed at the wall.

The situation had a scary familiarity to the time when Tom Riddle had used Ginny to write warnings on the wall. Like then, big, red letters were painted to the stone.

_THE SCORPION WILL ALWAYS STING THE TOAD, DUMBLEDORE. YOU HAD BETTER BE WATCHING YOUR BACK._

_S.S_

"Snape was here in the castle?"

Ron's voice was hardly more than a terror-filled whisper and there was not the slightest trace of doubt in his words.

"Please, let us through", another, stern voice rang towards them and some of the students moved instantly, making way for an upset looking headmaster whom was approaching them fast, followed by McGonagall and Pavati Patil.

Dumbledore stopped dumbstruck as the students opened a lane and he saw the writing. After having carefully studied the words, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"Minerva, get the children back to the dormitories and tell Filch to take care of this..." he seemed to search for words for a moment, "This here."

Without losing a single word about the open threat, or the fact that apparently Snape had come to deposit it here in the school, Dumbledore turned and walked away so fast as if he couldn't get away from there soon enough.

"There is nothing more to see here. Please go back to your rooms now." McGonagall had her typical draconic expression on her face and spoke with her best this-is-no-question-and-I-will-not-tolerate-any-contradiction-voice.

More than reluctantly, the students started to leave under disgruntled whispers.

"How the hell did Snape manage to get in here", Ron asked, after they let themselves fall back behind the others a bit.

Harry shrugged, but didn't really manage to chase the anger from his face. The whole thing was getting a bit too personal for his liking. Not only had Sirius' murderer escaped his punishment and ran over to Voldemort again, now he had threatened Dumbledore, the only adult that really cared about Harry anymore. The moment that he had seen Dumbledore's stunned face, whilst reading the message, he had decided to do all he could to keep that crazy Slytherin from the headmaster. Snape had already killed one person close to Harry; he would not do it again.

It wouldn't be the first time that he had taken on Voldemort, and Snape would experience what it meant if one messed with Harry Potter's friends. With this threat against Dumbledore, Snape had finally managed to make an archenemy out of him and Harry felt a deep loathing blossom inside his heart. A hateful feeling which even surpassed what he felt for Pettigrew and Voldemort himself. If he ever got his hands on the former professor, he would not spare him, like he had Pettigrew. He would take it upon himself to protect Dumbledore, if the man would not do it himself out of some twisted emotions he felt towards Snape.

"Sirius has found a way in the castle once. Maybe Snape knew about another secret passage. This old building must be full of those, and Snape has spent almost half his life here."

"But if he knew a secret passage, why would he leave only the warning and not bring you-know-who here?" Ron asked.

Hermione, who had up until now remained silent, which in itself proved that she didn't doubt the message writer's identity, spoke for the first time. "Most hidden passages, especially those still secret, would certainly not be big enough to let an army through and I also doubt that Voldemort will attack Dumbledore on his own terrain."

Harry nodded. "Yes, Dumbledore is the only wizard whose strength Voldemort fears. Still, it's dangerous if he knows of such a passage. He could try all sorts of things."

Hermione threw a worried look at Harry. "Especially since we know how much he'd like to get rid of certain persons here."

"I am certain that Dumbledore knows about that too and that he will take the appropriate counter measures", Ron said.

Harry too was convinced about that. He wasn't worried about his own safety. Dumbledore would do everything to protect him. What worried him more was that the old wizard would not go through with effectively eliminating the danger Snape posed, if it became necessary. Harry feared that, if it was really true that those two were related, then Dumbledore would rather let himself be executed then kill Snape. It was that which scared him immensely.

"And what is this thing with a scorpion stinging the toad?" Ron asked, looking at Hermione, as if he'd simply expect her to have an answer right away, Even though he mocked her love for knowledge at every opportunity, often calling her a walking encyclopaedia, he still couldn't deny the usefulness of that knowledge.

This time too, her face morphed into an expression of a mother, explaining something absolutely obvious to her little kid, which normally got on Harry's and Ron's nerves like hell, but for now they just let her speak.

"That's easy. There's a famous muggle fable about a scorpion and a toad", she begun. "A scorpion wanted to cross a river, but he couldn't swim so he asked a toad if it could carry him over the water.

The toad said no, because it feared the scorpion's sting.

The scorpion reasoned that, if he were to sting the toad, he would drown as well.The toad agreed upon that and carried the scorpion on it's back across the river.When they were in its middle, however, the scorpion stung the toad anyway.The toad said that they both would be dying now and asked the scorpion, why he had done that, even though he had known about the consequences.The scorpion answered that he had done it because it was in his nature." After that, they were silent for several minutes, while they kept on walking. Ron chewed the inside of his cheek and seemed kind of nervous. Harry understood why, too; with the sentence on the wall, Snape had himself proved that he had gone back to his old ways. All right. If the greasy Git wanted to play on that side, he had to expect that someone would kick his ass. At those thoughts, his mind drifted inevitably back a TV-show that he had once seen as a kid, where a huge frog had eaten a scorpion and that thought brought a menacing smirk to his face. Snape would get the surprise of his life. 

T.B.C

Slytherin's silver snake: You're the best hugzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz


	24. A plan is born

Chapter 23

Betaed by Slytherin's silver snake

_A plan is born:_

Chaos started with delay the next morning, whilst everybody sat at breakfast and, wherever you listened, discussed the sense and purpose of the warning. Harry didn't miss the self-sufficient smirk on the faces of some Slytherins. Especially Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle looked like they had not enjoyed a meal as much since the arrest of their head of house. Only Crabbe appeared like he were torn between joy and worry and couldn't quite make up his mind on what to think.

The rest of the students as well as the teachers looked overly nervous. Even Dumbledore was wearing a sombre expression throughout the whole meal. The mischief that usually seemed to be a constant part of him was gone for what seemed like an eternity and this saddened Harry nearly as much as his godfather's death. It was almost as if Snape had managed to kill a part of Dumbledore too, along with Sirius.

Dumbledore's expression darkened even more when the great entrance gate was pushed open and minister Fudge himself stalked grimly into the room, walking through the long students tables and towards the staff.

"Dumbledore, may I please have a word with you?"

If the sour expression on Fudge's face was any indication then the question was anything but a request.

"Certainly Cornelius," Dumbledore answered politely, ignoring the harsh tone of the minister.

He laid the silverware slowly down and quietly dabbed his mouth with his napkin before he stood up and moved around the staff table, accompanying the minister out the same way he had come in.

The murmuring voices in the Hall, which had died down at Fudge's entry, rose again as soon as the two wizards had left. One after the other, the students started to eat again, the rumours flourishing a great deal once more.

"What is Fudge doing here?" Ron asked from besides Harry.

"It must have to do with Snape's warning. What do you think, Harry?" Hermione asked.

"Definitely", Ron said. "Snape has invaded the school unnoticed. They certainly want to take measures to make sure that this doesn't happen again. Remember, when Sirius found his way into the castle? They had even posted Dementors here to catch him."

Before he thought about it, Harry lashed out at Ron. "Don't you dare to compare that son of a bitch with my Godfather!"

Ron blushed slightly at his outburst. „Sorry, Harry. I didn't mean it that way."

Harry sighed, when the guilt crept up on him. "I know, Ron. I apologize for yelling at you. It's just driving me mad that my godfather's murderer is on the loose and is keeping up the killing, while Sirius sat innocently in Azkaban for twelve years and in the end has gotten nothing but death instead of an apology. It's just so unfair."

Hermione laid a placating hand on Harry's shoulder. "They will catch him eventually. Keep faith."

Harry harrumped. "In the ministry? Hardly, and even if they do catch him, Malfoy and Voldemort had no problems getting him out the first time around. They could do it again any time they choose. The only way to hinder Voldemort doing that would be the kiss, but this, Dumbledore will prevent. He's too involved in the whole thing through that secret connection he has to Snape."

Hermione had no answer to that, but she was saved by the swarm of mail owls that had just flew into the Great hall.

"Mail!" she called out with a hint of relief, to have escaped the topic of Snape.

A middle-sized barn owl just then landed before her and extended its leg, on which the newest copy of the daily prophet was tied. The animal actually managed to look kind of bored, which didn't escape Hermione either. "You look pretty bureaucratic, you know", she giggled, while taking the newspaper from the owl. The bird clapped huffily with its beak, before it flew off.

"The owl looks like Fudge probably would, if he were an Animagus", Ron chuckled too.

"Maybe it was him? That specific owl never brought me the newspaper before."

"Can't be. Fudge is with Dumbledore," Ron contradicted.

Hermione flashed him a smile before she unrolled the newspapers and almost instantly groaned.

Harry leaned over to catch a glimpse, but Hermione pulled the paper out of his reach in an obvious attempt to get it out of his line of sight.

Harry angrily reached around her, caught the paper and pulled it out of Hermione's hands with, as he had to admit, a bit too much vehemence. He just couldn't bring himself to really care at the moment. If she wanted to hide it from him, then it was clear that there was something in it that would upset him, but he didn't plan on letting her treat him like a little kid.

With a last glare at Hermione, he opened the paper and instantly some thick printed headlines caught his attention.

ENTIRE FAMILY POISONED 

Harry had a bad presentiment even before he read the article under the title.

It was written there that a dark potion killed a whole muggle family, two adults and three children. Of course, the muggles had no idea about that and blamed an unknown poison, which basically turned people's insides out. The wizarding inquisitors however, had found out that it was an ancient, very hard to brew potion.

Harry didn't need to read any more. He felt sick and he fought to keep the breakfast down, which he had just eaten. Voldemort had his potions master back and he was using that advantage to it's fullest.

"What's goin' on? You don't look so good, Harry. What's in the newspaper?"

Harry handed the parchment to his friend, who regarded it briefly, before he cursed silently. "That slimy, greasy bastard!"

Harry was so angry, he felt the urge to throw his plate against the nearest wall. Snape merrily kept on killing people, helping a steadily growing more powerful Voldemort and what was the ministry doing against it? Nothing. But he wouldn't sit by, watching any longer. If the adults were incapable to stop Snape, then Harry would do it himself.

But how?

He thought about it for a moment, working through some ideas and dismissing them almost just as fast. He had to find out where the huge salon was, the one he had seen in his vision. He hadn't paid much deed to the details of the place, being slightly distracted by the persons there and their doings. Unfortunately he couldn't control the visions either and they didn't hit him when he wanted to. Theoretically, he could have another vision any moment or in a month, or never again, and even if he did find out where the death eaters met and if he could notify the ministry to send some Aurors, there was a strong possibility that they lost the fight or the death eaters could apparate away. Or maybe Snape wasn't with them at that moment.

And even if they found a way to catch Snape then he wouldn't be safely locked away in Azkaban and could be freed as easily as the first time. In the end there were much too many buts and ifs. But what else could he do?

Still deep in thoughts, he observed the path of a late owl, as it landed further down the table in front of Neville. Hermione's discussion with Ron from earlier came to his mind and suddenly an idea formed in his head.

"Tell me Ron. How does an owl always find the people who their mail is directed to?"

"Dunno. It's just so. Tell it the name and the address and it brings the mail", Ron said, while he chewed on a piece of toast.

"But in a room like this," Harry made a all-including gesture towards the Hall, "how can a strange owl find the right students among the few hundreds here."

"I don't know", Ron admitted.

Harry looked over at Hermione, who in response only shrugged unhappily, apparently taking the fact that she didn't know about it as a personal affront.

The front door opened again at that moment and Dumbledore entered, marching with a stern face back to his place. He didn't sit down, however, and looked intently at the students. He didn't even have to ask for their attention, since every single pair of eyes in the room was curiously directed at him.

"My dear children", he begun. "Yesterday's events have worried the ministry. An official statement will be made to the public today and hopefully prelude the eventual concern of some parents. For your safety, the school will from now on be under constant supervision of Aurors. In every dormitory, the library, the Great Hall and around the grounds there will be guards at all times. Classes will every time be started with a call of names." He turned to the teachers. "Also, guards will be posted in front of the teacher's quarters. If we can keep up the Hogsmeade trips will be discussed shortly before the next excursion is scheduled."

Angry shouts were being vocalized and even some of the teachers, like McGonagall or Trewlany had jumped up and were now excitedly talking down the headmaster.

Dumbledore only raised his hand and even though he didn't say a word, a strange pressure seemed to descent upon everyone and all people in the room quietened instantly.

"I understand that the situation is less than satisfying but for this moment it's the only possibility to ensure the safety of the school and all its occupants. Since I will not tolerate any dementors on school ground again this was the only alternative, the ministry conceded too. This affair is not negotiable."

The headmaster sat down again with those terminating words, and the murmur of hundreds of voices started anew.

Harry caught himself pretty fast. Those imbeciles of Aurors would be good for nothing at any rate. If he wanted anything to be done, it would have to be him who did it.

"Hermione", he addressed the girl besides him. "Do you think that it's possible to send an owl to someone, even if you don't know the exact address of that person?"

Hermione looked very sceptic. "I don't know, it shouldn't really be a problem. I would have to do some reading about it. Why? Who do you want to send an owl to?"

Harry smirked sinisterly. „To Snape. I want to write him a letter."

'And if everything works like I want to', he thought 'then Snape will wish, never to have broken out of Azkaban.'

T.B.C.


	25. the letter

Chapter 24

_The letter:_

"Blimey, Harry," Ron muttered, whilst leafing, disgruntledly, through an old book. "Can't you at least give us a hint on why we're even doing all this here?"

Harry had up until now refused to tell Ron and Hermione the details of his plan. It all stood and fell with the possibility to send an owl to someone without knowing the receiver's address. When Sirius had sent them Pigwidgeon for the first time, he had told them that Hedwig knew where to find him, so that meant that a normal owl would not have been able to get to him.

Which was kind of logical, since otherwise, the ministry only needed to send an owl to their escaped prisoner, following the bird afterwards on brooms. Still it was amazing that the animals found addresses of places to which they had never been before, finding persons who they didn't knew. This proved, first off, that they had a high intelligence, and secondly, it confirmed some magical intervention. Not even humans were capable of doing such stuff.

There must be a way to block an owl, but Harry had to know first how you did that and if it would be the case with Snape. Maybe it was enough that someone didn't want to be found, but as long as he wasn't certain, he didn't want to say too much. He didn't want to get Ron's hopes up and Hermione…well. Hermione would probably be less than thrilled anyway, but for the moment Harry simply didn't care.

"I'm sorry, Ron. I'll tell you all, when we've found it."

Hermione came back at this moment, putting a huge leather-bound tome on their round wooden table.

"If we can't find it in here, then I don't know where to look anymore," she breathed, sitting down and opening the heavy cover of the thick book.

Two hours later, they were not any the wiser and slowly a feeling of resignation filled them, as, suddenly Hermione yelped out in joy. "I've found it!"

She moved the book so that Ron and Harry could read the text too.

"Here it is, you see?" She had her forefinger pointed at a passage and begun to read out loud: "The first birds which had been used to deliver mail were not necessary owls. Every kind of bird was used. The animals were at first being charmed, so that they would fly to their destination. However they were not domesticated and fastening or retrieval of letters often ended with scratches and bites. That's why Alina and Romano Della Piazza from Sicily had established the first owls breeding.

Since back in those times, Witches and wizards were persecuted and the common people were pretty superstitious, the Della Piazza's had chosen owls for their nocturnal existence. The first generations of those mail-owls could only be used for destinations they knew and then only in two directions. Every new receiver needed a new owl, or a charm had to be placed on the ones they had. The Della Piazzas had over the years worked out a potion that would increase the owl's sense of orientation and give them the ability to have a distinct feeling to find the receiver of a letter, even in a crowd. That ability was passed on genetically to the next generations of the owls.

Still it's easy to evade that instinct of the owls with some simple protecting spells as, for example, the 'Anima sumere ex'. Sometimes, people don't want to be found and the Della Piazza's had always respected that wish."

Harry thought about that for a moment. Had Snape put such a protecting charm over himself? Maybe Voldemort did that automatically with all his men, but what reason should he have to do such? Most wizards didn't seem to think excessively about owl-mail and had no reason to hide anyhow. Voldemort surely did, but his influence was steadily growing and he had his sources everywhere. It was surely more secure to get his information by owl, instead of letting all his spies use the floo network.

It would be safe to assume, however, that the dark lord had a warning system that would inform him of any owl approaching. Harry even counted on that. Of course it was a risk, but one with which he'd lost a bit of his time at most. If it didn't work, and Voldemort and the death eaters were not with Snape on the next new moon, he would simply send another letter to Malfoy. That was more specious and he'd have a harder time to find a way making it plausible, but it were possible still.

"Are you gonna tell us now, what you're planning?" Ron asked impatiently.

"You know that Snape can easily be freed by Voldemort again, should he be caught and brought to Azkaban, right?"

Both nodded confused, not knowing where Harry wanted to go at.

"That's why we will make sure that Voldemort doesn't _want_ that greasy Git anymore. If Snape doesn't get himself killed by Voldemort after what I plan to do, then he's God damn lucky but he will be on the run until the rest of his days, from both, Voldemort and the ministry. He's getting all that Sirius had to face, only a hundred times worse."

"What do you plan to write to him?" Hermione asked suspiciously. It seemed that she was slowly understanding his plan.

"I will send a nice letter to Snape, in which I will thank him for the warning about the Maeby's. With the best wishes from his grandfather Albus Dumbledore, who is expressing his gratitude that Snape is spying again and who asks him to be careful by it."

"And what will the use of that be, apart that it's not the truth? Snape will hardly be unsettled by it."

"The letter wouldn't be meant for Snape, Ron."

"But you said..."

"I'll send it to Snape, that's right but I'll do it so that he'll get it next new moon. If the timing is right, then he will receive it when Voldemort will be with him."

Ron's face lightened up, as he understood Harry's Intentions. "Hey that's a great plan. You-know-who will surely want to see the letter and when he does, Snape is history."

"I don't know", Hermione interrupted. "If that really works then, with all probability, Voldemort will kill Snape on the spot, leaving us responsible for his death."

"So what? It's only Snape, after all."

Hermione flashed Ron a scanting glance.

Harry though, had already anticipated her doubts. "Hermione, I have seen myself how Snape has killed two people, the unborn child not even included and the poison that killed those muggles is certainly from him too. He is murdering people, Hermione, and Voldemort uses him to keep on killing. If we don't make use of that chance then we're also guilty of future murders by him. Besides, even if he's become insane, Snape is not stupid. Maybe he will manage to escape. You know how slippery those Slytherins can be."

Hermione sighed and her eyes told Harry that she agreed with him, even if she wasn't happy about it. "But how do you know when to send the owl? You don't know where the meeting is and how long the owl needs to get there, nor do you know the exact time of the gathering."

Harry nodded. "I know. It's far from secure. Last time I had a vision, it seemed to be late afternoon, as low as the sun shone into the room, which would make sense too, since most of the death eaters would be having normal jobs besides their service to Voldemort. Of course, a risk remains, but if we fail, we can still arrange to let something slip to Draco, or send an owl to Malfoy senior. There are still other means, even if they would not be so useful. I'll send the owl around three o'clock and hope that it'll make it there before the end of the meeting."

"And what exactly do you plan to write?" Ron asked. "That Snape has regretted his actions and went to Dumbledore to cry about it?"

"Ron has a point, Harry. The whole thing needs to be thought through carefully. Snape has killed Sirius in front of hundreds of witnesses, and that he will simply crumble with remorse afterwards will not be plausible enough."

"Neither can we say that Sirius isn't really dead because Snape has pronounced the words wrongly, or something. Like Hermione said, there were too many witnesses and you-know-who has surely enough spies in the ministry, who could have questioned the two medi-wizards who examined Sirius. One of them may even be working for the dark lord. That would explain the cruelties they did to his body", Ron continued. "And there is still Azkaban. If Snape would spy for Dumbledore, then the headmaster would surely not have turned him in. He would instead have found a way to keep him from being imprisoned."

Harry listened to the whole dialogue, while doing some thinking on his own. "You're forgetting the little detail that Snape is insane. Even Voldemort has seen that and if I write that Dumbledore is his grandfather, be it true or not, then all will make sense. Snape snaps and kills Sirius. Dumbledore has to turn him in, but does all to keep him from the kiss, since Snape says that he regrets and acted solemnly on an impulse. After Voldemort gets him out, he contacts Dumbledore to suggest new spying for redemption. By giving information to the light side, he wants to show his good will."

"And what about the couple he has killed?" Hermione asked reluctantly.

"That was another fit of insanity. We will mention it in the letter and since Voldemort doesn't know about my visions, he will think that the only way Dumbledore could know about it, would be through Snape."

"Well then, let's get started. I like this idea more and more", Ron said enthusiastically, digging a piece of parchment and a quill out of his schoolbag.

After an hour and several fruitless tries, they had managed to create a letter, which looked quite good to them.

_Dear Severus,_

_I thank you for your information, with which we could warn and hide the Maeby's. I understand your desire to keep on spying to appease your guilt on having killed Sirius but please stay careful._

_When Voldemort will be vanquished once and for all, I will take care that you don't have to go back to Azkaban anymore and that you will be getting medical help. They will silence the voices in your head and heal you. That you have killed the McGregors has saddened me immensely, but the fact that you told me about it and truly regret that deed shows me that it was not you who were responsible, but your illness. I understand your fear of more such episodes of mental derangement, which may lead you to do more bad things. However, in this moment, with Voldemort's steadily growing power, you can, even in the state you're currently in, do more good than damage. Your information will save many lives. We will help you when this whole thing here is over and if you should ever think that you don't have the strength to carry on your spying, then please come to me immediately._

_Your Grandfather_

_Albus Dumbledore_

Harry read the letter one more time. He was highly satisfied with the result. This piece of parchment would once and for all erase the danger named Snape, avenging Sirius in the same way.

All they could do now was wait for the next new moon.

T.B.C.

**WARNING! ****From next chapter on, the rating will be deserved, since there will be gore and very detailed torture.**

Thanks to my betareader Slytherin's silver snake hugz


	26. Betrayal's mirror image

Chapter 25:

_Betrayal's mirror image:_

The time until the next new moon stretched like elastic.

Harry had been looking forward to this moment so much, that by the end of the wait he had become a nervous wreck. Ron didn't fare any better and only Hermione still doubted their right to willingly endanger the life of someone, even if that someone was a murderer. Harry had no such doubts. They would take another deatheater from Voldemort and disable a weapon that had become dangerous.

Still, the month was not easy. Aurors were everywhere and they seemed to enjoy guarding a school and some kids just as much as the teachers and students wanted to have them here. Harry felt like he was in a prison and that they had to be extra careful to talk about their 'private' matters without being overheard.

Of course, they were not under constant supervision and could move around the castle quite unrestricted, but the sheer presents of the Aurors was very unnerving and one could never tell if one of those would not show up around the next corner any time.

Luckily, Ron and Harry still managed pretty easily to penetrate the owlery, the day of the supposed deatheater meeting.

They didn't think that Voldemort would direct his wrath at the owl and have a direct go at the potions master, once he read the letter, yet they still didn't want to send one of their familiars. Besides, there was the possibility that Snape may know one of the two animals to be theirs.

They chose a small, quick screech owl and Harry tied the parchment with jittery fingers to its leg.

"Take the letter to professor Severus Snape." Harry eyed the small bird worriedly. "And get lost as soon as someone has taken the letter from you, you hear me?"

The owl cooed softly and flapped out of the great tower window.

"I only wish we could be there when Snape gets that letter," Ron grinned.

The letter was sent and life continued.

There was no indication if Harry's Plan had succeeded or failed. The morning after having sent the letter, the two friends checked in the owlery. The screech owl was sleeping peacefully on a perch, the letter gone. It was impossible to tell what may have happened. Did their plan work out, or had Snape gotten the letter in a solitary moment?

For several days to come, Ron and Harry talked about nothing else but the letter up until late at night, falling back to their games of invented tortures. It was not nearly as satisfying as to know what really had happened, but it was better than nothing.

The fifth night after having sent the letter, Harry got his answer.

This time his scar had not hurt and Harry had fallen asleep quite normally. The only thing telling him that he wasn't dreaming was the distinctive air about the pictures that forced their way into his consciousness, pulling him from the darkness of sleep and the fact that he was in the same room as last time. Like during the last meeting, more than ten deatheaters were present and again there was a person shivering and gasping on the floor in the middle of their circle. This time, however it was a man. A man wearing a similar robe like the deatheaters surrounding him.

Voldemort stood besides the still twitching and heavily breathing Snape, his wand in one hand and a crumbled piece of parchment in his other. The dark wizard practically shook with fury and held his wand so tightly that the fine wood threatened to split under his grip.

"You have betrayed me one too many times and now you're denying yourself a fast death by refusing to tell me what I want to hear."

Snape gave no indications to answer; instead he fought himself up on his elbows. Yet, that seemed to take a good deal out of his strength and he remained on the ground, panting heavily.

"Master," Malfoy, who stood in the circle among the other death eaters, said. "Give me the honour and let me try. I will be getting it out of him eventually."

Voldemort hissed angrily, letting the parchment fall to the floor. "You may have the filthy traitor, once I'm through with him. Not before." He stored his wand back into a hidden part of his sleeve then grabbed Snape by the back-collar of his cloak and pulled him effortlessly to his feet. The dark wizard held the softly moaning potions master in an upright position, pinning him with one arm against his own chest. Snape was barely able to keep on his feet and leaned heavily against Voldemort behind him.

Out of nowhere, Voldemort suddenly held a curved knife with an ivory handle in his hand. He brought the blade up and held it menacingly against the younger wizard's throat, without relenting the grip of his other hand with which he still held the potions master.

Not even now did Snape really react and his arms hung limply at his sides.

Only after he had caught his breath a bit, did Snape sigh softly and locked his knees to stand on his own. He lifted his head, apparently barely aware of the blade at his neck. There was no fear in his eyes and he seemed completely calm as if he wasn't even really aware of the situation in which he found himself.

Voldemort didn't look like he'd liked to see that, however. "My Severus," he hissed, his mouth mere millimetres behind Snape's ear. "Still so proud, despite everything."

Voldemort moved the blade a bit and a thin, red rivulet flowed sluggishly down the pale skin of Snape's neck.

"This is your last chance for a dignified death, Severus. Tell me what I want to hear from you."

Harry saw Snape's lips move but he couldn't make the words out, which he spoke. Voldemort, however seemed to have heard perfectly, for he made an angry sound and pressed the knife harder against Snapes skin, before he pulled the blade in agonizing slowness across the exposed throat.

For the shortest of moments, Harry thought that Voldemort must have bluffed, but his doubt only lasted so long until the potions master's eyes widened in horror and a fountain of blood shot out of the gap that the knife left in its wake. More blood came out from the gory mess that once had been Snape's neck and a sickening, gurgling noise echoed through the room as the man desperately tried to breathe and only blood filled his lungs instead. The hands that before had limply hung at his side stiffened into abstruse claws, so tense that they trembled slightly in the death fight.

Snape opened his mouth but all that came out, was another gush of blood, which now came through his nose, mouth, and in pulsating intervals from the wound at his neck.

Harry wanted to look away, but he couldn't. Without being able to do something against it, his eyes stayed hefted on the terrible scene in front of him. He saw as the panic took a complete hold over Snape's body. As he tried in vain to gulp for air, his eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets in pain and inhuman fright.

The horror in the bloodied to a grimace twisted face didn't die down, instead it seemed to burn itself into the features as, after an impossibly long time, all the stiffness left the body and the eyes of the man lost their focus. His legs gave in and Snape fell with his whole weight against Voldemort, who still held him.

The intervals in which the blood was pushed out grew slower until it became a steadily flowing stream of red. Only then did Voldemort let go of Snape's body, which fell in a formless heap into an impossibly big-looking puddle of blood.

Which let Harry leave his shock-induced immobility and with a terrified yelp he jolted back, only to wake in his bed, gasping for air.

Right after, the mattress tilted at his side and he heard Ron's alarmed voice beside himself. "Harry? Harry, what's the matter?"

"Who screamed?" another, sleep-drunken voice murmured.

"Everything is alright, Neville. Go back to sleep!" Ron's voice called back into the room.

Harry needed several minutes to calm down sufficiently. He tried to make out Ron, who sat at the edge of his bed, but the picture of Snape's terror-ridden face as he rang in vain for breath and the vast amount of blood seemed to have imprinted itself on his retina and overlapped everything else. At that point, it didn't even matter that he had imagined, or even wished for Snape's death since the murder of his godfather. It didn't matter either that it had finally happened as a result of his plan. He had known that Snape may get killed but he hadn't counted on such a brutality. Even though they had talked about it only hours earlier, it seemed like an eternity ago as Ron and himself had wished to be present when Voldemort would intercept the letter and punish Snape. Now he wished that he'd never seen that.

"Harry? Answer me. You're scaring me. What's wrong?" Ron pressed with a hint of fear in his voice.

"Ron," Harry whispered, fixating the boy at his side. The picture of Snape with a cut throat slowly faded away and he looked at a very worried looking Ron. The redhead's expression loosened only when Harry answered.

"Did you have another vision?"

Ron sounded as worried as he had just looked and Harry pulled his legs up and hugged his knees in a try to suppress the cold shivers that still ran through him at the memory of the cruel execution.

"Snape is dead," he only whispered and didn't miss the flicker of a smile that shot in Ron's face, before he chased it and narrowed his eyes worriedly again. "And where is the problem? Why did you scream? Wasn't that what we wanted? Sirius is avenged at last."

"I know," Harry whispered dully. "That isn't it either. It's only that I've seen how he died and I don't want to witness something like that ever again. All that blood…and those eyes. You could see the raw horror in it and then that sound as he tried to breath..." A new shiver ran through him again, as instantly the picture came forward again and Harry had to use all his force of mind to push it back once more.

"What exactly happened, Harry?"

"From what I saw at the beginning of the vision, Voldemort had put Snape under crucio, but then he simply lifted him up and cut his throat."

Ron's eyes grew wide and he absentmindedly reached up to his own neck. "Ouch."

Harry still sounded much too weak in his own ears, but slowly the shock faded away and the whole thing didn't seem quite so overwhelming. "Yeah, right, ouch."

"And now? The headmaster has told you to see him immediately if you should have another vision."

„Forget it, Ron," Harry interrupted sharply. „You know what Dumbledore thinks of Snape. If I tell him what happened, then I'll also have to tell him _why_ it happened. Dumbledore will never know that Snape is dead. He just disappeared and that's the end of it. Sirius is avenged, future victims of Snape are safe and Dumbledore can think that he has fled and is in security. This way, everybody is happy."

Ron nodded reluctantly. "I guess that'll be best. It's only a shame that we can't throw an official party on Snape's demise."

Harry smiled against his will. "You definitely hang out too much with Fred and George, you know? But if you want to, we can go to the 'Three Broomsticks' on the weekend and drink to Sirius' memory and Snape's death."

Ron grinned happily and went back into his own bed, after wishing Harry good night.

Harry's smile died and he lay back down. He only hoped that the shock about the things he saw would have decreased until the next morning, so he could at least function normally.

Because at the moment he didn't feel capable for that at all.

T.B.C.

Thanks to my Betareader: Slytherin's silver snake!


	27. and where truth was

Chapter 26

_...and where truth was..._

It wasn't supposed to be this way.

Snape's death should have appeased Harry's feelings of frustration, sadness and hate. Yet, Harry had imagined the whole thing differently.

Their plan should have worked out and they were supposed to have avenged Sirius' death and enjoyed the outcome; the more brutal it was, the better. In theory it had all looked so good. They'd write the letter and Voldemort would either chase Snape away or kill him. So simple - in theory. But it didn't happen that way. Somehow he had failed to think about that, in order to be dead, Snape would actually have to _die_.

No, that was stupid. Of course he had known that, but never would he have imagined witnessing how someone still alive fought so much and yet was inevitably doomed. The helplessness of a single desperate breath, when it was so clear how in vain it was. The fight, the fear and the panic. The torturous slowness in which someone could die so brutally. Cedric had been different. He hadn't suffered, he had only fallen dead. Just like his parents or the McGregors. They didn't really have to _die. _They had just been dead without the pain, without the useless fight for one single breath.

Without that terrible fear in their eyes.

And it was this that had robbed all of it of its simplicity and brought it into a bloody reality.

During breakfast, Harry didn't eat much and he felt sick just looking at his Porridge. Somehow, every time he glanced at the whitish mush it seemed to change into a bloody red.

His revenge was supposed to erase his hatred for Snape, but now he hated him even more for the fact that he had been forced to watch that all. He smirked bitterly. It almost looked as if Snape would make him pay for the false letter, even in his death.

Damned Slytherin.

On the seat beside him, Ron told Hermione in hushed whispers and with obvious delight about the vision. The girl took it in with a frown. She didn't seem very happy about this news, but neither did she look really surprised. It had taken a bit of convincing from their side to persuade her that their actions would be saving lives. That looked logical, even to her, and Hermione was a person who trusted logic. Still, when Ron mentioned how Snape had been killed, a terrified gasp escaped her.

Their first class this morning was 'care for magical creatures' with Hagrid.

Since the days this time of the year were rarely nice and sunny anymore, the half-giant had decided that they'd better profit from the rare occasion and let them sit down in the grass under the warming sun, close to the boarder of the forbidden forest.

The big man sat down in front of their semi circle. Like more often lately, Lupin was there too, sitting besides Hagrid and scratching Fang behind the ears who lay panting and with closed eyes besides the wizard and seemed to enjoy the special treatment immensely.

Most of the students liked to have the werewolf there. He was rarely missing, especially when Harry and his friends were in class. Harry suspected that Lupin felt kind of responsible for him, now that Sirius was dead.

More than most of his classmates was Harry glad that they didn't have to share the class with Malfoy anymore, so they didn't have to endure the constant sarcastic comments and insults. Harry liked this class. Not particularly because of its topic, but because of its teachers. The ever-present Auror held himself pretty much in the background too, thank God.

Harry was more than thankful about Remus' and his friends' calming presence, who helped him to ignore the terrible pictures of his vision.

He managed quite easily to concentrate on the class too, as long as Hagrid told them about the Uldras, Lapland's earth-living beings who fed the animals in their hibernation, or the Nagumwasucks of America and their most prominent differences to the common fairies in Europe. But then, Hagrid begun to talk about the sphinxes and their related families. The Greek and Egypt, or Andro-sphinx and the Crio-sphinx, another sub-species of the former. At first, Hagrid explained their difference in appearance with help of pictures, Lupin sat up and then he begun to explain their difference in behaviour.

"The sphinxes in the near east," Hagrid begun, "Are famous fer deir' wisdom, which dey' rarely show. Dey'r proud, self-lovin' creatures who love it wen' they'r bein' worshipped an' people pay homage to em'."

"That reminds me strongly of a teacher we once had," Ron whispered to Neville. A low chuckle escaped all those who were close enough to hear, even Harry.

Hagrid however, continued unwaveringly. "The Greek species are quite diff'rent. Dey' talk a lot and're very aggressive. Dey're predators, and humans 're their favourite prey. Sphinxes 'ave a feline character, like a cat, or some women too – because sphinxes are mostly female – dey' have the tendency t' play with their victims. They talk to 'dem, even sooth 'dem, before dey' kill them in a cruel an' very bloody fashion."

The soothing voice –'My Severus, still so proud.'—Splashing blood -- panic --death.

The picture was back and Harry felt the blood leave his face at the detailed memory. Only after some deep breaths did he manage to push the picture back. When would it finally fade for good? Damn Snape, damn Voldemort.

Fortunately, his classmates didn't look like they noticed anything of his little dilemma, since their gazes were still on the half-giant who was just telling them of the famous sphinx-riddle. But when Harry looked back in front, he met Lupin's glance, which was studying him with a thoughtful frown.

"Hagrid," the werewolf interrupted the gamekeeper holding eye contact with Harry for a moment longer, before he faced the half giant. "If you don't need me here anymore, then I would like to go. You know that we need to gather firewood before we go on patrol tonight."

"Yer' right about 'dat, Remus," Hagrid agreed in his deep, nearly thundering voice. "But will yer' manage to carry it alone?"

"I'll manage, Hagrid." Remus got to his feet. "I could take a student with me to help and tell him some more about the sphinxes on the way."

Harry dreaded the worst.

Hagrid looked uncertain for a moment but then nodded reluctantly. "If ye think..."

Lupin smiled benevolently and addressed Harry. "Harry. Would you be so nice as to help me?"

Harry groaned inwardly. So Lupin had noticed his reaction from before. Just great, now he definitely would want to know the reason why Harry had been startled that much. Reluctantly, he pushed off the floor and went over to Lupin, who led him away from the class.

The werewolf first walked over to Hagrid's hut to retrieve a basket and then led him into the forbidden forest, until they were completely surrounded by trees. Only then, he stopped, put the basket on the leaf-covered ground and sat down on a fallen trunk. He patted inviting at the space beside himself. "Take a seat, Harry."

Harry felt nervous and terrible. What should he tell Lupin? He remembered all too clearly the lessons about werewolves, who were supposed to have such a defined instinct, that it was very hard to mislead them. To be on the safe side, he sat down on a rock a short distance in front of Lupin. The space gave him at least pretence of security.

"What is wrong, Harry?

Harry lowered his head. "Nothing," he started a pathetic attempt.

"Harry." The single word showed very clearly how much Lupin believed him. Not at all.

Harry sighed deeply and looked at the werewolf who still studied him with kind eyes. "Please, Remus. It's better if you don't ask."

"Something scared you, when Hagrid talked about the sphinxes. Something in particular. It looked like it was his explanations about the way they kill that bothered you so, and I'm asking myself why that is."

'Shit', Harry thought. To hell with those sharp Werewolf senses.

Lupin rose to his feet and squatted down in front of Harry. "You can tell me what's bothering you, Harry. Last year was hard on you. If there is some way in which I can help you, then please let me."

Harry thoughtfully chewed his lower lip. It was true that Remus would probably understand how much the vision had unsettled him, more so than Ron or Hermione. After all, Lupin was a werewolf and had surely had to work through some abhorrent things on his own after he was bitten. If he could indeed talk to someone who would understand how it was, looking at such things, it would certainly be easier to forget all the blood and terror, to solemnly concentrate on the fact that Sirius was avenged. But for that he'd have to tell Remus about the letter too.

Would Lupin condemn his action? But then again, Sirius had been Remus' best friend and he had certainly already wished death upon Snape himself, since the murder. If someone could understand his motivation and feeling for revenge, then that person would be Remus Lupin. More so, he may even approve.

Harry took a deep breath. "Do you promise me, not to tell anything to Dumbledore? What I'll tell you now has to stay confidential at all costs."

Lupin nodded and Harry took another breath before he started to talk. He spoke of his grief and his hatred for Snape, about his disappointment at first, when Snape had escaped the kiss. How he had started to befriend that fact at last and started to work through it all. He then talked about how Snape's breakout and the visions of him had nourished his anger again about the murder of the McGregors and how that, together with the article of the daily prophet had made him decide to do something.

He then told Remus about their plan and the letter and ended with the latest vision and the effect the grisly pictures had on him and how he didn't seem able to get rid of them anymore.

Lupin hadn't said a word for the whole time, but Harry had clearly seen how the werewolf had paled more and more, an unbelieving expression on his face.

The werewolf stayed silent for at least two full minutes, even after Harry had finished, so that Harry already started to fear that the werewolf had fallen into a trance. But eventually he talked and when he did, his voice was hardly more than a hoarse whisper. "By Merlin, Harry. With that letter you have signed Severus' death warrant."

Harry would have expected a lot. Anger because of his action, pleasure that Sirius was finally avenged or even unbelief that Harry had managed something which the ministry tried to do for weeks; getting a hold of Snape.

He had never, however suspected such a shock and sadness, like he now saw in the werewolf's eyes. "But it was Snape! He deserved it. HE KILLED SIRIUS, GOD DAMMIT!" he shouted, angry at Lupins reaction.

Lupin shook his head sadly. "We have to notify the headmaster right away."

"But you promised not to tell him anything!" Harry screamed alarmed.

Lupin regarded him with such severity that Harry had never before seen on the man and instinctively he yanked back a little.

"I usually don't break my promises but he has to know about this. Come, let's go."

He stood up and took Harry's hand, helping him to his feet. With a hand on his shoulder, Harry was led out of the forest, across the lawn and back to the school.

Faster than he would have liked, they stood in Dumbledore's office and the old wizard came from the adjoining room through the shelf-door and greeted them with a kind smile.

"Ah, Remus and Harry. What can I do for you?"

Harry lowered his head guiltily. Dumbledore cared so much about Snape. He would never forgive Harry for what he had done.

For the whole way he had tried to convince Lupin to leave Dumbledore out of the affair. It wasn't just to pull himself out of the responsibilities of his acts, but he knew that Snape's death would break the old man's heart. Even more so, if his theory about them two being related was correct.

"Severus is dead," Lupin informed Dumbledore rationally, and Harry heard a terrified gasp from Dumbledore, but he didn't dare to look the man in the eye.

"H...how?" the headmaster breathed after several seconds.

The grip on Harry's shoulder tightened in an encouraging gesture and so, he repeated his story from before. Only was his voice very feeble now and he didn't dare to look the headmaster in the eye, staring resolutely at his toes. This time around he also contented himself to tell the raw facts without going into too much detail of the execution.

After he had finished, a pregnant silence laid for several seconds over the room until a shadow in front of him let Harry look up.

The headmaster stood barely a meter in front of him, wearing a look so sad and disappointed that it nearly broke Harry's heart. Tears started to gather in Dumbledore's eyes and then traced freely down the old wizard's cheeks.

"Harry, what have you done?"

The accusation in the words let Harry's heart drop even more until a new voice hit him like a bucket of cold water.

"Leave the boy alone, Albus. He has only done what his heart has told him to."

Harry jerked around and looked over to the 'door' that lead to the adjoining room. There stood, arms crossed casually over his chest, an alive Sirius Black.

T.B.C.

Authors Note: So, my dears. I'm usually not the 'please-review-whiny-kind-of-gal'. But now I will be shamelessly begging for reviews. I want to see how many „I knew it from the beginning!" I'll get:-P

The next chapter will be after X-mas, but with some luck, before the new year.

Cheers and hugs to you all. You're the best!

Merry Christmas to all!

Special wishes to Slytherin's silver snake,


	28. Truth and other catastrophes

Chapter 27

Truth and other catastrophes:

Harry could barely think. He had the impression that all control over the situation had been ripped from him and the whole thing had an air of surrealism to it. With a hanging jaw he stared at the man whom he had watched die. The man whose corpse he had touched and who he had buried. The man who should be dead but now stood there with a dark scowl and looking unfeasibly alive.

Harry wanted to say something but he couldn't gather enough strength to breathe or even move his jaw.

"Sirius, couldn't you have waited for a while longer?" Dumbledore asked, reproachfully.

The living man that looked so much like Sirius snorted angrily. "We should have told him a long time ago, Albus, then our plan might have worked out and all the work would not be for nothing now."

It wasn't only the looks, but also the voice. Sirius' voice. Harry felt a weak, warm feeling of hope blossom somewhere in his chest and no matter how much his brain denied it, his heart had completely other plans.

"Sirius?" The yaw was functioning again, as was his breathing, but his voice betrayed his fear that this was all just a dream and that he would be waking up any time now.

Dumbledore turned back to him, like Harry vaguely noticed from the corner of his eye, but his attention stayed on the other man.on Sirius.

"Harry. I am so sorry. I know how much you have suffered in the last few months and I know that I should have told you sooner that Sirius isn't really dead, but there was too much at stake. I could not risk it. Please try to understand."

"Sirius...is alive?" Harry echoed dully. He wasn't capable of saying more until the rest of Dumbledore's words registered. In slow motion, he looked up at the man who he had trusted more than anyone else in the world. "You knew about that all and still let me believe...?"

His voice broke down as a gigantic wave of disappointment, betrayal and bitterness washed over him. Dumbledore had lied to him, had made him believe that Sirius was dead. The old wizard had willingly hurt him. Had misused all his affection and trust and had put him through his own personal hell.

Harry's next action was not in the least planned and resulted only because of his feelings. Fury, hatred and disappointment made him lift his arm and smash his balled fist with an angry yell towards Dumbledore's face. The old wizard was hit on his right cheek, his head snapping to the side on the impact and he stumbled several feet backwards before he lost his equilibrium and landed ungracefully on his backside.

"Harry!" Lupin and Sirius yelled like one and through a curtain of tears, which suddenly blurred Harry's sight, he saw a dark figure rushing towards him. Strong arms embraced him from behind, pinning his arms effectively to his side.

"You have lied to me? You have... You..." Harry's voice broke down again. He still felt the betrayal deep in his heart, but something else started to bloom there, suffocating the other feeling more and more. Something that was hot and burning, that he couldn't identify and which let a lump grow in his throat and drove tears to his eyes.

"It's alright, Harry. Calm down," he heard Sirius' low words behind his ear, as his godfather slightly loosened his hold on him.

Sirius held him. His godfather was alive. He wasn't dead. And suddenly that new feeling made sense and Harry spun around and threw his arms around Sirius with the tears finally breaking loose and flowing freely down his cheek. He sobbed violently, the hot feeling inside of him at the same time oppressing and relieving.

Sirius was alive.

The animagus pulled Harry closer and hugged him tightly, stroking soothingly but also a bit helpless his back. "It's okay, Harry."

"You're alive. You're alive. Oh God, you're not dead," Harry breathed into Sirius' shoulder. At the moment he didn't care if was a sixteen-year-old teenager who was crying like a little kid; he hardly noticed how his glasses skidded at an odd angle, as he buried his face in his godfather's robes. All he knew and cared about was that the person that he loved like a parent had been given back to him.

It took another few minutes until he calmed down sufficiently for the tears to cease flowing, even though some silent sobs still shook his body.

He peeled himself off Sirius, arranged his glasses and regarded his godfather for a long time. "How is this possible? I saw you die."

Somebody cleared his throat behind him and Harry turned around to see Dumbledore who was helped to his feet by Lupin, rubbing a reddened right cheek with his hand, while he rotated his yaw to make sure, nothing was broken. Harry felt a strange mixture of anger and guilt.

"I believe that I deserved this," Dumbledore commented, and a slight twinkle even found its way into his eyes, even if it looked a bit dulled. "Take a seat, Harry. I will explain everything to you."

Sirius steered him to a wooden chair, facing Dumbledore's desk. Harry sat down but he was grateful for the hand that Sirius left unrelenting on his shoulder. Lupin at his side, Dumbledore sat down behind his desk, pressing his fingertips together, while he braced his elbows upon the surface of the bureau, regarding Harry intently.

"It all started shortly after you left at the end of your fourth year, Harry," he finally begun.

"You certainly remember that the situation had not been easy. The ministry denied Voldemort's return and those willing to fight him were in fewer numbers than the death eaters. Still, we had plans. Hagrid was supposed to go talk to the giants and we wanted to revive the old order of which I told you about before your vacation. We had many plans, even if we knew how slim our chances and how risky their carrying out was. But then, two days after your departure, we had a visitor."

He hesitated a moment then continued. "I will not tell you all the details, but someone came to us from the future. One year of the future, to be exact. That person warned us of certain. things that would happen. We should prevent this. Our visitor gave us an alternative. A recipe for a poison, which would rip all magical powers from its victim and which was strong enough even for Voldemort. The drawback however, is that it's preparation would take several months and that the substance would have to be brought into contact with the victim over the span of several weeks.

And there was our problem. Severus was confident that he could brew the poison, but how could we apply it? To send Severus plainly back to Voldemort would be difficult and risky and Voldemort would hardly let him come close again. He's not that stupid.

So we started to form a plan. We had to make it look that professor Snape was turning back to Voldemort's side completely. We faked the murder and made Severus look as if he had turned against me."

"But why didn't you fill me in? Why that Farce?" Harry interrupted.

Dumbledore waited patiently and the hand on his shoulder squeezed in a calming manner.

"You see, Harry. We hade to make sure that everything worked out. That could only happen if the right rumours were spread. When you and young Mister Weasley overheard the fight between Severus and Sirius, the first stage was set into motion. We needed someone from the students to heat the rumours and since you're involved more than anybody else with Sirius, you were the only chance. Everything had to look real and so we couldn't inform you. Your already existing dislike for professor Snape had to be enforced and you had to talk against him in your house, so that the rumour would finally spread and reach the Slytherins, where certainly one of the death eater's children would report the events to his or her parents. And after the supposed murder the heat had to be stirred even more. There couldn't be any doubt on Severus' disposition. He himself did everything to strengthen that image by acting as if he'd grown tired of teaching and the school and he acted impossibly towards both students and staff."

A low, pained chuckle escaped the headmaster. "I did have the impression, however that he enjoyed this part a bit too much."

Harry was speechless for a moment. It wad all been planned out? "But how?" he asked. "How could you know that Ron and I were going to be in the dungeons that night?"

Dumbledore smiled wearily, and his gaze flickered shortly up to Sirius, before he looked back at Harry. "Do you really think that the marauders were the first ones to come up with the idea of a map?"

He leaned back a bit and opened a drawer of his desk, from where he produced an old, silvery hand mirror and a black wand. He laid the wand down and held the mirror up for Harry to see it clearly.

"I have to admit that the map is by far more accomplished than what I have created all those years ago. That mirror shows me exactly where a person in Hogwarts can be found. But only one at a time and only I can activate it." He put the mirror down again. "Severus has given you all particularly large amounts of homework, so that you would, if they were difficult enough, surely push them up until the latest moment possible, as he suspected you to do so often. When you didn't show up at dinner then, that theory seemed to verify itself. Dobby once told me that you and your friends had the tendency to show up in the kitchen at night, whenever you missed dinner for some reason."

Harry lowered his head guiltily.

"Severus and Sirius have waited in the room, hoping that it were like that this evening too and when I gave them the sign, they started the fight. Everything worked perfectly up until the 'murder'. The rumours were circulating and the students wary of Severus."

"But how could Snape have faked the murder without endangering Sirius?"

The headmaster lifted the wand. "This wand looks exactly like Severus', yet it is nothing more than a harmless piece of wood with no ability to bundle any magic whatsoever. All that it could do, after I hexed it, was to produce a harmless green streak of light, with a little magic from my side at the right moment. The death curse needs strong magic and if it's not meant, or the means to bundle that magic are missing, then the curse will not work. Sirius ingested a strong sedative right before the spectacle, which would rend him unconscious for several hours, making him appear dead to all who saw him. Poppy knew of the plan and Sirius woke the following day without any harm to himself. All went according to plan, apart the fact that I miscalculated the severity with which it would hit you." Dumbledore's face took on a pained, regretting look. "When you broke down in my office, it had taken all my self-control to not tell you everything right away, but it was not in my right to jeopardize the mission. Not after we had been given such good chances and after others had been willing to risk everything to make it work."

Harry thought to see some tears in Dumbledore's eyes at those words, but the old wizard took a deep breath and continued. "As I said, nobody counted on your violent reaction, nor that you would go see professor Snape to threaten him. Severus had told me afterwards that he had been forced to improvise, since he found himself at the business end of your wand, which you intended to use too. He had to divide your attention and had therefore acted like you wouldn't ever expect of him."

"He acted insane," Harry murmured, as he remembered.

"Exactly," Sirius confirmed, behind him with a growl. "And then the slytherinish snake taunted you so long, until you would attack him with your bare hands."

"But how could he be certain that that would work? I could have killed or seriously hurt him."

Sirius made a dismissing sound. "Don't underestimate the Slytherin's slipperiness. They have a talent to manoeuvre themselves out of tricky situations. They are masters of deceit and manipulation, if they want to. Especially Snape. He has a great talent for it, or he wouldn't have survived for so long."

"Severus knew exactly," Dumbledore continued, "that you acted out of emotion and that you were no cold-blooded killer. It was originally not part of the plan, but it looks like Severus' keeping up the insane-act has helped us. Especially before, during and after his arrest. I didn't understand at first until Minerva mentioned that the ministry would not submit an insane man to the 'kiss'. Only then did I understand that Snape was using this as a weapon to steer the trial in the right direction and to reason his changing loyalties to Voldemort."

Harry was confused. "But how could you be sure that he wouldn't be getting the kiss? You said so yourself; it was a great risk and you couldn't be certain that your influence would be enough. Besides, what's the use of him being in Azkaban? He wouldn't come close to Voldemort, while rotting in prison, that's for sure. This whole thing was a very badly thought through plan, if you ask me."

"The thing with the kiss was a risk indeed, and when I realised that the whole trial was only held for show and that the verdict was long decided upon, I already saw everything lost. It was Severus' fast thinking and his unusual demeanour that prevented this, I presume."

Dumbledore now took a small piece of metal, only about the size of half a fingernail and held it up in the sunlight, which broke at the shiny surface and flashed through the room.

"Do you remember the injury on Severus' hand?"

Harry nodded.

"The injury had nothing to do with the attack of you on him, but was inflicted by Severus himself. They take all your personal things from you in Azkaban, even the clothes and because of this, he had made a small cut at the skin beneath his thumb, hiding this there." Again he lifted the small fragment to for emphasis.

"I've hexed it to be a portkey. Lupin was standing by a top exit. Would the verdict have been the kiss, despite my intervention, then I would, under the pretext of wanting to say a last goodbye, have tried to gain some time in which Remus would have run outside to signal to a hidden Sirius to activate the portkey. Severus would disappear and be safe from the Dementors. There still was a high risk, of course, if I didn't manage to delay the carrying out of the sentence but we could lessen the danger by this precaution."

"But even if that'll worked, then he would be on the run from the ministry with Sirius," Harry interrupted. He had some difficulties to believe that Snape would run such a risk.

"Please don't remind me of this fabulous prospect," Sirius growled behind him.

Dumbledore didn't pay any attention to that comment. "Severus had pressed the portkey out of his wound while the jurors were discussing the sentence and as they condemned him to livelong prison, he let it fall to the floor for me to retrieve it, so nobody may by accident find it later on his person. Then the real tricky part of the operation began. I knew that Voldemort wanted professor Snape. To take revenge and to get information. Severus did work close to me for years after all and I strongly suppose that Voldemort has heard about me vouching for him, all those years ago, telling the court that he spied for me.

Regardless, I couldn't be certain. If he broke him out, everything would be decided. If Severus managed to get back into Voldemort's good graces, we had a good chance to succeed. If not then that were the end of our plan and of the life of one Severus Snape."

Again that sad look and a deep sigh. "It was all or nothing and like you've seen in your vision, he had done it and played Voldemort into taking him back. And this is where I made a big mistake. I should have told you everything back then, but I wanted to hold it away from you until as long as possible."

Harry didn't know what to think. The way Dumbledore laid everything out before him, all suddenly started to make terrible sense. Well, almost everything. "But what about the burial, headmaster? And the ministry men who did the examination on Sirius? The hexes and the autopsy?"

Dumbledore sighed once more. "I did not expect them, I admit and when they came I had to get rid of them somehow. I have done something, which I would never do under normal circumstances. I have altered their memory so that they were convinced to have done the examination, even though they never even saw Sirius. Fortunately, later on their appearance had even helped us, when you wanted to look into the empty coffin."

Harry started to feel bad again but he didn't want to submit to his mistakes just like that and became angry again. How could they dare to play with him? If all what they said was the truth, then that would mean. "What about the McGregors? Snape has killed them in cold blood, even though he could have saved them!"

Dumbledore looked pained again, but it was Sirius who crouched down in front of him, fixing him severely. "You have to understand one thing, Harry. The recipe for the poison was the chance of a lifetime to break Voldemort's power once and for all. Lots of lives would be saved in the long run. Snape's story had to hold tight. Everybody who was involved in the plan, meaning Dumbledore, Poppy, Remus, Snape and I have taken the oath to do everything what's necessary to make the plan work out. The visitor from the future told us that..."

Sirius threw a look over his shoulder at Dumbledore, who only shook his head. Sirius sighed and turned back to Harry. "The visitor told us that someone would die and that we had to prevent that if any possible. We had to do all we could to weaken Voldemort, so he could finally be vanquished."

"We have not given in into illusions," Dumbledore continued. "We knew that Voldemort would want such proves of loyalty from Severus, as much as Severus knew that too. Still he was willing to do what would need more courage than to sacrifice his own life. Harry, Severus was ready to put all personal feelings aside and sacrifice all and everything for this mission, no matter how much he dreaded that. To give all the others the chance to live peacefully, Muggles alike wizards."

Sirius spoke again and for one time there was no contempt or insult in his voice or eyes as he spoke of Snape. "Snape was the only one among us who was capable of doing such a thing; killing people despite the fact that he didn't want to. The only one who was cold enough to put any personal feeling back and do whatever had to be done. This is something every death eater learns quite fast under you-know-who."

Now, Harry felt really bad. It had all been planned in a wicked scheme to vanquish Voldemort and he had unwillingly destroyed that plan.

"Why didn't you tell me anything? Why?"

Harry didn't know what to feel anymore. Relief that Sirius was alive, disappointment about Dumbledore and Lupin who had not said anything or fury at Snape, because of whom he had made himself a murderer?

He concentrated foremost on that fury. Because if he couldn't be furious about Snape, then all which stayed was the guilt to be responsible for his death. Snape had been willing to risk everything. His freedom, his pride and even his life. Especially his life, a life that he really had lost in the end.

Because of him.

Harry buried his head in his hands. "Oh God. I've destroyed everything. I've killed a person."

He felt both of Sirius' hands grab the sides of his face as his godfather forced him to look at him. "Now you listen very good, Harold James Potter. It was not your fault. Not in the least."

He let go of Harry again, who felt the old lump in his throat, which seemed to have taken residence there of the late, form again. Did Sirius really think that he would believe that? It had been his idea to send the letter. He had sent the owl. It was because of him, if Voldemort was still as powerful as before, their only chance forfeit and it was because of him, that a man who had risked everything had died.

Dumbledore seemed to read his thoughts, because he spoke with a deep, urgent voice: "If someone is to blame for Severus' death besides Voldemort himself, then it would probably be me, for I didn't inform you of the plan. Besides, Severus knew what he risked. Do you know what he asked as repayment for taking that risk?"

Harry shook his head weakly.

"He asked us to kill him, before the dementors had a chance to suck out his soul. He knew the risk and he was prepared for it. To atone for his sins, to finally get rid of his self-loathing and guilt he was ready to do it even if this outcome was very probable from the beginning. He has come farther than we all really thought he would. Farther than he himself would have thought. Severus has redeemed himself at last and for the first time in his life he now probably is at peace."  
T.B.C.

I was halfway through with this chapter when Ootp was released, so when I read the end of that, I didn't know if I should laugh or cry because there were some similarities. But at that point I couldn't change the plot anymore, because I laid all the clues already. What I did, though, was to adapt some things to what we learned there. I already knew that there was a person who would die, but I have counted rather on Hermione or Hagrid. I'd never thought she'd off Sirius, but it gave me an even better opportunity to insert the fact here. (Already I changed some minor details in the translation, so it kind of fits, like Arabella, who, in the Original was a full teacher and Lupin was only Hagrid's assistant, or the Weasleytwins who hadn't opened the shop just yet in the former version). I won't change all of it. Some false details will remain.

I hope I won't get any flamer screaming 'COPYCAT' at me, because I swear, it's just coincidence. From now on there won't be much in common with JKR's plot anyway. The style too will change and I'll vary from different POV's. Next one being.?

Betaed by slytherin's silver snake


	29. The beginning of night

Kapitel 28

_The beginning of night:_

_Severus knew that this was the end. His cover was blown and now he was standing here, held by the man who he had once called master, a knife held against his throat._

_In this final game he had risked everything, and he had lost. _

_No, not everything. Deep down inside he knew that for him, death was the simplest and the most merciful solution. That he wouldn't be granted the mercy of a painless Avada Kedavra was something that he had somehow expected. Contrary to what Dumbledore and Lupin had tried to tell him, he had known from the start that this would be a suicide mission. He had been disgraced, had suffered, murdered and overall done things which provided him with a one-way ticket to hell, no matter for what reasons he had acted. Severus had with this mission once and for all sold his soul. _

_He doubted that the willingness of sacrifice, which he had shown these last few weeks, would atone for the atrocities, committed in his past. First as a death eater and then later, when he protected his cover for the mission, he had done terrible things. He was a killer. No matter for what reason, he had murdered men, women and children without even hesitating. Only someone whose soul was already soiled beyond hope could do something like that, and now he would be getting the bill for his actions. _

_He sighed and lifted his head in defeated expectation and even leaned a bit into the blade, which Voldemort held against the vulnerable spot right under the left side of his jawbone. He felt the sharp, burning pain, as the blade nicked his skin and tore a minuscule wound into his neck._

_"My Severus," Voldemort hissed behind him, his voice loaded with satisfaction, whilst he pulled Snape closer against his own bony chest in an almost lovingly embrace, laying the side of his face against the cheek of his chosen victim. "Still so proud, despite everything."_

_Severus could feel the vibration of Voldemort's chest whilst he spoke and the breath of the dark lord brushed against his face in a mocking intimacy. Gradually, the pressure of the blade grew and Severus felt something warm and sticky dribble down his neck, leaving an uncomfortable, itching sensation in its wake._

_"You have one last chance for a dignified death, Severus. Tell me what I want to hear from you."_

_Severus knew what Voldemort wanted. His death had been 'fait accompli', the moment that the dark wizard had intercepted that crazy letter. Voldemort wanted to scare him and show him just who held the power. He had, in between continuing rounds of 'Crucios' over and over, demanded that Severus admit the dark lord's superiority._

_"Never again, will I call you ‚master'. I will die as a free man. You no longer hold any power over me", Severus whispered so softly that only Voldemort would hear him, mirroring the mock intimacy of the older wizard. All that was left to him at that point was his pride and he wanted to hold onto that little selfishness, even if he knew perfectly what it meant for him._

_A low, angry sound came from behind his right ear where Voldemort's face was before his whole neck exploded in burning agony. _

_Instinctively, he wanted to suck in a breath, but found this impossible. He had the feeling that he was drowning and a gigantic hand was putting more and more pressure on his lungs. Regardless that his consciousness was telling him that it was impossible to breathe with a slit throat, that his very life was being pushed out of him with every beat of his heart, colouring his robes, Voldemort's arms and the ground beneath him in a splash of scarlet red, an instinctive will to survive kicked in. Adrenalin was pumped out and his heart started to beat faster in a vain try to compensate for the leaving blood, only to push it faster out of his body. He gasped for breath but only a gurgling noise in the back of his throat emerged. Severus couldn't stop the panic that now took hold of him whilst he suffocated slowly on his own blood as it filled his windpipe and lungs._

_The seconds stretched into an eternity of agony, horror and panic in which the pressure around his lungs grew to be unbearable, making all his instincts cry to him to do the impossible, to breathe… until a soft mist seemed to descend upon him, muffling all the panic and agony. His sight clouded over and like in a dream he felt his legs give in, letting him sink against the person behind before he was lowered to the ground. _

_Eventually, even that disappeared, and he sank into a dark, peaceful warmth._

He had died. The last thing that he remembered was an overwhelming pain and the panic as he suffocated. Then the pain and fear had diminished and he had lost all sensation in a sea of peace and quiet. It had been the first time that he had felt like this. The first time that he had not felt the weight of his damned and wasted past upon him.

This feeling couldn't have been anything else but death. But if that was so, then why did he feel so cold? Why was in his bones the shadow of a hellish soreness and why was there such a weariness and weakness lingering in his muscles, and why did every breath leave his throat burning?

Severus tried to open his eyes, but the lids felt so incredibly heavy that it took an enormous amount of willpower to finally force them open. He wasn't sure what he had expected, but somehow, the stone that he found a few centimetres in front of his eyes and which pressed cold and hard into his cheek and the right half of his forehead felt wrong.

He moved his head a bit to the side and saw that the stone was actually the floor of a dark room, which held an oppressive atmosphere so typical that it was obvious to be in a cell. Severus knew such rooms. Far too many times he had put people in such holes to torture and kill them with curses and potions. He didn't know where he was – they could easily have brought him anywhere in England – but those cells never varied much. Small, cold and impersonal.

He had always known that even death eaters were not safe from punishment and that he may one day get to know one of this cells a bit better. But at the moment, he tried foremost to figure out why he was still alive even if his body was not left undamaged. He recognised the after effects of the Crutiatus well enough but the tiredness and the weakness was new, just like the almost painful dryness of his throat and mouth. He tried to swallow, but this only resulted in a burning agony in his throat. Severus suppressed a groan, knowing that this would only result in more pain. At the same time he started to understand what must have happened.

To hell with Voldemort's magic power. Severus didn't know which curse the dark wizard had used to heal him from the slit throat and keep him alive, but he doubted that it had been white magic.

Severus felt a hint of disappointment. It would have been too good to die so easily anyway. Okay, easy was hardly the right word. Better one hundred crucios then ever having to experience drowning on his blood again.

Laying here on the cold concrete floor was all but comfortable, but the energy to move was simply not at hand anymore. So he simply stayed there, closing his heavy eyelids.

When the owl had delivered the letter in the middle of the meeting and Severus read it there, he had at first been too stunned to react or ask himself who would write such a nonsense, because that this crap came from Dumbledore was out of question. Only when Voldemort had taken the parchment from him had he understood how much trouble he really was in.

Severus' strongest weapon had always been his voice. He was proud of his ability to use words like a knife, but this time he had known that nothing he'd say would save him. Whoever had written that letter had sealed his death warrant. Voldemort didn't trust unconditionally, and even if he had managed to move in the dark lord's immediate surrounding again it still didn't need more than the doubt of a suspicion to guaranty the rage of the dark wizard.

But now, in this cell, with nothing to do than keep from moving and listen to the unnatural silence, he had enough time to think about the why and who.

It was clear that it had been in the writer's intent to have Voldemort intercept the letter; otherwise it wouldn't make any sense at all. The plan had been good, that much he had to admit. Insidious and well thought through. He didn't really know if he should feel angry or amused. Whoever had put this plan into motion just had to have Slytherin blood in his veins, but Severus could not picture any of his house's students, former or actual ones, to do something like this, except if they knew the truth and sided with Voldemort. Yet then they could have simply informed the dark lord and not sent such a stupid letter to him. And they would definitely not have made up such an insane story about spying and him being Dumbledore's grandson.

There was another mystery too. It was true that the Maeby's had suddenly disappeared and the death eaters had been unable to kidnap them. Nobody should know of the plan to catch them, and that there'd be another spy in Voldemort's rank seemed ridiculous. But even if that were the case, then a further spy would hardly have blown his cover. But somebody had wanted to do exactly that.

Who had reason to do such a thing anyway? Black? Yes, he wouldn't put it passed the Gryffindor, but the man was in on their mission and on their side, and to put simply, Black was not smart enough to think up such a wicked plan.

Who else? Potter? Dumbledore had certainly told the boy about the plan a long time ago, after he had done his work of stirring up those rumours. The headmaster liked that insufferable brat way too much to let him suffer any longer then necessary. Still, it would make frighteningly sense that he would get such ideas with his know-it-all-friend Granger and that impossible dunderhead Weasley. Only, where should the boy have gotten that information about the Maebys? Not to talk about the fact that he could impossibly know, when and where the death eaters gathered. And would young Potter really try to kill him? Severus doubted it.

But then again, he would never have thought James and his gang capable of that either...

In the end, it didn't matter. All that should be important to him at the moment was how long he would be tortured before he was killed.

As if on command, he heard the groaning noise of stone being pushed over stone from somewhere behind him.

Severus opened his eyes and collected enough strength to lift his head. He had only gotten it off the ground however, as the room started to spin around him and he had the impression that the laws of gravity had let him out of their grip. This sensation was accompanied by a violent throbbing behind his temples, which threatened to split his scull into two.

Instinctively, a moan escaped him, which in return set his throat on fire again. Lifelessly, he let his head sink back down to the ground, fully concentrating on not making any more sounds.

That's how he didn't even realise that someone crouched down besides him, until that person spoke.

"Does it hurt, Severus?"

Severus would recognize Lucius Malfoy's voice everywhere and it brought the semblance of order back into his spinning head. Once more, he suppressed a groan, this one not originating from the pain.

"My my, Severus. You're not answering. Could it be that you're scared?"

Severus closed his eyes. He knew that Malfoy was only taunting him but at the moment he had no nerve for that. His head was ringing as if a whole orchestra were playing a fanfare in its inside. Moreover, he had no energy left to become angry. All he wanted was to be left alone. Or what about a nice little 'Avada Kedavra'?

"The dark lord has given me complete control over you, Severus, did you know that? Don't you think that very thoughtful of him?"

Well then, no Avada Kedavra after all. Would have to be expected after all, with all the luck that had followed him through his life so far.

"I would very much enjoy to converse longer with you, Severus, yet, unfortunately I have other commitments which have to be taken care of, but I promise that next time I will make more time for you."

A swirl of the stale air in front of him showed Severus that the other man had stood up again. Shortly after he heard the groaning of stone on stone again, as, like he suspected, the door was closed once more.

T.B.C.

Betaed by Slytherin's silver snake


	30. The road to hell is paved with good inte...

Chapter 29:

_The road to hell is paved with good intentions:_

Harry's thoughts were still a perfect imitation of a roller coaster, as, late that night, he found himself on his way to the Gryffindor common room, Remus Lupin walking at his side. After all the explanations this morning, Dumbledore had sent the werewolf to cancel all of Harry's classes. Remus had told the other teachers, as well as Ron and Hermione, that Harry would be needed to assist him in a project that would be taking up most of the day. Towards Harry however, Dumbledore had guiltily admitted that he would certainly need some time to get over the shock and that he wouldn't be able to concentrate on his lessons anyhow.

And so, Harry had spent the whole day in the company of the man who meant so much to him and whom he thought never to see again.

This alone might actually have been enough reason to celebrate, but his joy was clouded over by the knowledge of Dumbledore's betrayal and the fact that it had been himself who had ruined everything and sentenced a man to death for something that he was not guilty of. All the old good reasons, which he had laid down in his mind before and which had made the whole thing seem right, had just evaporated into nothing and it had taken a long time for him to believe Dumbledore and Sirius' words that it hadn't been his fault and that Snape's chances to survive had been less then slim from the beginning. As soon as Voldemort would have noticed that his powers were growing weaker, which without doubt would have happened eventually, the dark lord would with all likelihood have seen through the potion master's game and have killed him. Snape had been aware of that from the start and had still agreed to try.

Moreover, the poison had been a good chance, but not their only one; the adults had tried to comfort him.

Still, Harry found himself wondering if they believed that themselves or if they were merely trying to placate him. He remembered all too well how Dumbledore had warned him not to take the affair into his own hands, since the border between good and evil was so small. Harry asked himself, not for the first time today either, if he hadn't already crossed that border. And it was this thought that frightened him above all else.

"What are you thinking about, Harry?" Lupin's voice pulled him out of his thoughts.

"Nothing", Harry answered, distractedly, chasing away his doubts for the moment by concentrating on something different. "Say, Remus. How was it possible for Snape to smuggle the poison into Azkaban in the first place, if you even went so far as to create an injury to hide the small portkey. How could Snape have hidden the vial with the poison?"

"He didn't", answered Remus. "He didn't have the poison with him in Azkaban. He retrieved it later here in Hogwarts."

'Of course', Harry thought. That made sense.

"The writing on the wall", he said out loud.

Remus nodded. "Yes. He told you-know-who that he wanted revenge on Dumbledore and planned to frighten him. The dark lord likes such games, as you have seen in your second year. Snape told him that he knew of a secret passage that he could use. The headmaster had put the vial behind a loose brick before and we had agreed that Severus would leave a message if everything went according to plan. Against common belief, Snape's true nature is not to kill and when he was a deatheater he somehow acted against his nature. Those who didn't know would see in the message nothing else but a threat, but in reality it confirmed Snape's loyalty towards professor Dumbledore."

"But why didn't Voldemort start an attack here in Hogwarts, if he could get to know a secret passage?"

"Because the passage is too small to let an army through and the dark lord has too much respect for Dumbledore. Pettigrew knows of some secret passages too, yet never before did Voldemort attempt to attack through one of those."

They walked silently side by side for a moment, when Harry remembered something else. "But why did Dumbledore tell us that you, after Sirius was...after it looked like Sirius were dead, had been given a sedative, if you'd known that he was alive?"

Remus laughed softly at that. "He lied to you to explain my absence. If Sirius would really have been dead, I certainly would have been in the hospital wing with him."

"Then why were you not there?"

"Because I'm such a lousy actor."

Harry had definitely not expected such an explanation. He regarded the werewolf perplexedly. The older wizard smiled, embarrassed. "Sirius and Severus had for once agreed on something. They both were convinced that I'd mess up the whole thing. I can hardly tell a convincing lie, especially if I have to look someone in the eyes." He shrugged apolitically. "It's been like this since my own school days, and it hasn't changed. We all decided that it would be best if I'd be present as little as possible."

If only Remus would have given away the plan, Harry thought bitterly, then he wouldn't find himself in this position now. But he knew that it were useless to ask again for the 'why'.

Because people had treated him like a little kid and had not trusted him with the truth. There lay the 'why' that had started the whole misery. Okay, Remus might be a lousy actor but they could have had a bit more faith in him to display the rumours even if he had known of the plan.

He would definitely have succeeded, he told himself to quieten the soft voice in the back of his head, which told him that he would never have been so convincing if his hatred for Snape were merely played. That hatred had eaten itself so deeply into his soul that not even now had it let go of him. Now that the man was dead, confirming with that Harry's terrible mistake, which caused a heavy guilt to settle in his heart with which he now would have to live for the rest of his life.

"Do you want me to come along, Harry?" asked Remus, as they arrived in front of the portrait of the fat lady.

Harry shook his head. "No. Thank you for accompanying me here, Remus."

Dismissing the werewolf, he named the password and stepped through the hole in the wall as the portrait of the fat lady moved aside, only to stop dead in his tracks.

Every last one of the Gryffindors was assembled in the common room singing and cheering loud paroles all at once, making the texts almost indiscernible, yet several linen sheets were hung on the wall with some of the paroles written on them. Harry could make one out just above the fireplace, the text of which he now distinguished as being sung over and over again.

**_Snape was greasy. Snape was a fool, now he's roasting in hell, oh isn't that cool_**.

"Hey, hold on for a minute", a beaming Ron yelled over the crowd. The common singing died out and everybody looked expectantly towards the redhead.

"How do you like that one?" he jumped on a chair and cleared his throat loudly and in mock-importance.

_We once had a teacher who called us dunderhead. _

_He mangled with Potter and now he's dead._

_Harry Potter is the best, _

_He's given the git eternal rest."_

Harry felt uncomfortably touched, yet as he heard the cheering applause of the other Gryffindors he felt like being sick. It was really true what Ron was saying here. All the students hated Snape, even though the teacher had risked his life for them. They had no idea about what had really happened and only knew Ron's version, in which Harry had defeated Snape and which Ron had obviously shared freely. And then, for the first time, Harry realized that the man who he had hated since the beginning, didn't deserve that hatred, no matter how bad his attitude and how poor his ability to relate to other people was. Just like Sirius had been thrown innocently to Azkaban, Snape was blamed undeservedly.

Of course, he was an insufferable, bitter and often unfair man, but he had still been willing to go farther and risk more for the side of light than probably any of the students present. Damn; probably more than most human beings. No matter how much Harry may have despised the man in his class, he did deserve that his memory was treated with respect. Harry fought the urge to be sick, which grew steadily now. It was indirectly his fault that Snape had died and even if Dumbledore, Sirius and Remus told him over and over again that it hadn't been single-handedly his fault, he knew that it would never have happened without him either. And even if they told him that Snape knew the risk, then this attitude of the people here, this joy about the death of a human that they had known, managed to put him down for good.

Only then, Ron realized his being here and grinned widely at him, before he jumped off his chair, hurried over to him and laid his arm happily around Harry's shoulder. "Hey, mate. I hope you're not mad that I didn't wait for you to tell the others about Snape's…" with his flat hand, he made a cutting gesture over his throat, while he grinned, "…demise. I just couldn't hold back the great news any longer. They ought to know that the greasy git has gotten back every little thing which he has ever done to us."

"Oh will you just shut up, Ron?" Harry answered, angered about his friend's open enthusiasm. Ron had no idea what he was saying. Snape was a sorry bastard but he didn't deserve such a fate and all this hatred. Nobody did, but neither had he realized that until it had been too late.

"What's wrong Harry?" Ron asked perplexed. He had clearly expected that his friend would react otherwise, and this made Harry even angrier because in a time not long ago, which seemed millennia past, he would have cheered along with them -- sometime, before he had learned that things were often not as they seemed and that every life was precious.

"You all make me sick!" he finally screamed into the crowd of Gryffindors, who instantly quietened and looked confusedly in his direction. "You're all...Oh God." Harry felt the hot sting of tears in his eyes. All those people here were sick, simply sick and inhuman – just like him.

Harry twisted from under Ron's arm as his flight-instinct came on. He wanted nothing but to get out of here, out of the room full of students who reminded him painfully of his own faults. As fast as he could, he elbowed his way through the crowd and hurried towards his dormitory, barely registering that he was crying.

He rushed up the steps and stormed into his bedroom, shutting the door with a loud bang behind him. Belly first, he let himself fall onto his bed and pressed a cushion close to his chest in a senseless try to chase away this feeling of desperate anguish. He was no better than his housemates. How could he ever have accepted so willingly the death of another human being? How could he ever have thought it to be a right thing to do?

He heard the door to the room creak open as somebody entered the piece. Harry wanted to be alone, yet at the same time he needed someone to whom he could tell everything. Somebody who would understand and whose understanding would lessen his sense of guilt -- if such a thing were feasible at all.

"Harry?" Ron asked hesitating.

Harry let go of his cushion and sat up, whipping the tears off his face with his sleeve. He looked up to his friend who studied him worriedly, but also a bit lost. Harry didn't know what to say. Where should he start to tell his friend that they had made a terrible mistake? In the end, only one single question came over his lips: "Where is Hermione?"

"She's in the girl's dormitory. She didn't really want to party along. You know her. Even if it was Snape, who deserved every thing he got, she's not the type to celebrate about something like that."

At Ron's words, the lump of guilt only took deeper root in Harry's chest and he became angry again, but before he could retort with anything, an breathless Hermione stormed into the room, sending the door banging against the wall in her hurry.

"Mione, what are you doing in here.? This is the boy's dormitory!" protested Ron.

Hermione ignored him and sat down on the edge of Harry's bed. "Patil came and told me that something seemed to be wrong with you, Harry. Are you hurt? Did something happen, while you were with Lupin?"

Hermione's worry hurt. A lot and Harry felt again, how new tears started to flow down his face. "I wasn't with Remus."

Ron sat down on the edge of his own bed besides Harry's and regarded his friend intently. "But we were told that you'd have to help him with something and wouldn't come to class today for that reason." He narrowed his eyes worriedly and suspiciously. "Harry, where have you been the whole day?

Harry only listened with one ear. His thoughts didn't want to keep still. Snape was dead, everybody hated him and it was all his fault. He didn't only take the potion master's life; no, he had destroyed the man in every possible way, although Snape had only wanted to save them. "Oh God. We have made a terrible mistake. Sirius was wrong. It HAS been my fault. Everybody hates Snape and for that too, I'm responsible. I destroyed him. Me alone."

"What are you talking about Harry?"

Harry hadn't even been aware that he'd talked that out loud, but he couldn't gather the force to answer Ron and instead only stared mutely at the red bedspread of his bed.

"Harry talk to us", Hermione now urged anxiously. "You're starting to scare us here. What happened? Where have you been?"

Harry regarded his friends pained "I was in Dumbledore's office. He told me to spend the day with Sirius and has therefore cancelled all my classes."

The two exchanged a worried glance, before they turned back to Harry. "Harry? I think you should go see Madame Pomfrey. You're not well." Ron said carefully.

Harry's anger came back. Why didn't they understand? He hurled the cushion, which he had just before pressed against his own body, forcefully against the wall behind his bed.

"God damn it, don't you understand? It was all planned out. From the beginning, they have played us and I have destroyed a life because of it."

Hermione's and Ron's expressions showed that they still didn't understand.

"What was planned out?" asked Hermione.

"All of it. The fight, the murder, Azkaban and the escape over to Voldemort… Well, just about every last bit of it." They still didn't seem to understand, or then not wanted to understand the implications of what Harry told them. "Sirius is not dead. It was all a lie!" he finally yelled.

Ron's eyes widened so impossibly big until white entirely encircled his pupils, whilst Hermione covered her mouth with her hand, as if to bodily hold back a shriek, which would have escaped her otherwise.

"But how… why?" Ron finally asked, and Harry told them about the Dumbledore's plan and the poison, which Snape should brew and bring to Voldemort. Of the whole, complicated but well thought through plan, which may even have worked out, if they hadn't made the mistake to send the disastrous letter.

"I would never have thought", Ron whispered after a moment of stunned silence, "that I'd ever see the day in which I'd be feeling sorry for Snape."

T.B.C.

Betaed by Slytherin's silver snake.


	31. A dead man's worth 2

Chapter 30:

_A dead man's worth 2:_

Severus woke several times, only to find himself alone in the cell. At the third time, he finally managed to stay awake sufficiently and collect enough of his remaining strength to get up on his knees and crawl to one of the walls, propping himself up against it. He guessed that the blood loss was to fault for his current weakness, but slowly, Voldemort's healing curse seemed to bring some of it back. Even as the dryness in his throat was still present, the pain seemed to have somewhat diminished.

As he sat there, leaning against the wall, he took the time to inspect the cell a bit better. There was no furniture, windows nor sanitary facilities, only cold, grey concrete walls surrounding a four by four metre space. One solitary torch, left in a rectangular outline in the wall in the shape of a door across from him, threw a flickering, unsteady light over the walls, making them look irregular and even rougher than it already felt against the potions master's skin. Severus was aware of the bareness' sense of this room, the absence of a bed and a toilet. When the torture would start, then the most fundamental bodily needs would loose their importance very fast.

At least it was dry here and not as cold and drafty as his cell in Azkaban had been.

Severus knew the procedure. It had been no coincidence that Malfoy had come to announce his return for the torture. The other wizard just seemed to forget that Severus himself knew about the tactics of torture. He had even learned some of it under Lucius himself.

'_The true art of torture, Severus, is to break the victim's spirit without even using violence,' _he heard the voice in his head, as Lucius had given him his first lesson._ 'There are some useful ways to accomplish that. Depending on the mental strength of the victim, you don't even need to touch him or her one single time. It's a game in which you hold complete control. You play with your superiority and his or her fear."_

Plant the expectation of something terrible in the victim's soul and then let them wait. It was a common method to make the victim nervous and fearful before the actual torture even took place. Unfortunately for Lucius, it wouldn't work on him. Severus already was in immense pain and he wouldn't fight the Crutiatus. Of course, it was an undignified and painful death, but he had nothing to lose at the moment. If he played it just right, he would get Malfoy to keep the curse on him long enough to grant him a relatively fast death. A human's normal reaction would be to try evading the pain but Severus would do no such thing. Two could play at that manipulative game and he planned to play it better than Lucius.

Of course, he felt a healthy amount of fear of what was to come. No sane human being would welcome the prospect of such agony, but even if he feared the pain, so not death. Not anymore. Since the day that he had understood the connotation of life and death, he had not stopped to ask himself why he was alive at all. Only had he always been too much of a coward to actively do something to correct that mistake. Now, he would soon be getting to know the other side and the fact that he had expected this outcome since the beginning of his mission, made the whole story here to be the probably most complicated suicide of all time.

Severus had no means to know for how long he already sat here. Mostly, he had been unconscious and there was no daylight by which he could judge the passing of time. The absence of smoke above the flame on the torch showed him that it was a magical fire, which didn't really burn or consume the wood of the torch and thus indicating any passing of time. This too was part of the exercise to weaken torture victims. Take away their feeling for time, their orientation and later their identity and they will do and say everything you want from them.

They had taken away his robes and shoes too but at least he still had his trousers and his black shirt. It wouldn't have surprised him, if they'd taken away all of his clothes. A weak person could be robbed of their defences by forcing them into public nudeness, yet Voldemort, as well as Malfoy would know that those means would not impress him. Too often had he been humiliated in comparable ways, so it would hardly break him anymore, especially if he knew the reasons behind.

Severus sighed, thankfully realizing that it didn't burn all that badly anymore to make a sound. He leaned his head on the cool concrete wall behind his body and stared at the ceiling, while he busied himself to mentally work through his newest potions-experiment, a draught against the after effects of the Crutiatus curse. He smirked bitterly. Kind of ironic, if he thought about it. Not that he would ever be able to finish the draught anyway now, but it gave him something else to focus on whilst waiting for Voldemort's dark curse as it slowly healed his wound. Something that he was less than thankful for. It would only increase the time, and therefore the pain, when Lucius could hold him under Crucio.

It felt as if time had stopped flowing while the three teenagers sat silently on the two beds in the boys' dormitory, until a soft sob from Hermione broke through the silence.

"I should have known, I was not happy about it from the start. I should have tried to stop it more vehemently", she said with self-loathing, while tears of anguish built in her eyes.

Ron was with her instantly and laid one arm comfortingly around her shoulders. "It wasn't your fault, Hermione. We have all been parts in it. Don't beat yourself up over it. You've been the only one who showed any second thoughts at all, anyhow."

She didn't seem to hear him, however, or if she did, she didn't take notice of his words. "I am a murderer."

"Not just you", Ron whispered and Harry noticed a shiny film, looking conspiringly like tears, cover the read-head's eyes s well.

Harry's tears flowed again, no matter how much he tried to keep them at bay. It had all been so perfect. His hate for Snape had justified all his actions back then, but now, everything had changed. It was, as if he had grown up in a heartbeat the minute that he had seen the party, and now all his well-nourished feelings of hate felt nothing but pathetic anymore.

Before, he had taken into account only the death of Sirius' killer, without spending a thought about the human being. A person who had known about feelings and pain. A human being with a past, a childhood and friends. Who had once been a little innocent kid, loved by his parents. Everybody is somebody's best friend; he had once read that in a muggle-magazine. Everybody, even a bitter, unapproachable, and student-bullying professor was a human being with fears and feelings. That spiteful teacher had possessed a sense of honour, which had let him risk his life for the mere chance to defeat the dark side. The mean, greasy git of a man had just made it so easy for them to forget, or willingly overlook the fact, that he was ready to do everything in his power for the side of light.

Yes. Today, three sixteen-year-old teenagers had been brutally ripped into adulthood, he thought, whilst he watched Ron comfort Hermione, holding her tightly and speaking soothing words to her.

They had to do something to make it up to Snape. At least as much as they still could. His decision made, he jumped off his bed with determination. "We will go down there now and tell everybody what really happened. That Snape died for our cause. If we, especially myself, have taken his life, then I will at least take care that he's keeping his honour intact. He will stay in everybody's memory as a hero who died fighting evil and not as a traitor."

Ron looked at him with shock. "But you can't do that. Do you want to tell them that Snape was a spy? The Slytherins would get wind of it eventually."

"And so what?" asked Harry defiantly. "What can they do? Go spill the news to Voldemort?" He ignored his friend's wince at the mentioning of the dark wizard's name. "Snape is dead, Ron. It doesn't matter anymore if we tell the truth. His cover can't be blown anymore. Voldemort already believes the truth, but we can at least give Snape the recognition for his acts."

"And what do you want to tell them about Sirius? He's still a wanted fugitive. If we spill out that he's not dead and happily residing in Dumbledore's quarters, then he, as well as the headmaster are history."

"We will tell them the truth but leave out that Sirius is still here. The ministry may not believe us, as well as some of the students, but the Gryffindors have been told by us before that Sirius is my Godfather, so they probably will."

Ron nodded seriously and Hermione chewed her lower lip in an attempt to suppress her tears.

So, they made their way back towards the common room. They expected noises from the party to drift up to them, as soon as they stepped into the hallway but all that they met was a pregnant silence.

Curious, they descended the stairs towards the common room.

They stopped at the lowest stair step, when a horde of Gryffindors, their back to them, blocked their way. Harry and his friends tried to get a look over the crowd to see what had captured their interest at such a point, but he only succeeded when he retreated two steps up the stair. Ron and Hermione mirrored him and they all looked curiously over the heads of the crowd towards the entrance of the common room, where everybody else seemed to be caught by something of great interest.

There, right in front of the opening stood professor McGonagall, having her arms stemmed into her sides and wearing an expression that would easily freeze hell.

"As I can see, nobody seems able to answer my question appropriately," she hissed in a perfect imitation of her Animagus form. "You really have no explanation as to why you find the death of another human being so amusing?"

Some of the students lowered their heads guiltily, and Harry had the impression he had missed an important part of what had happened so far.

A short plump Auror, holding a goblet of fire whisky walked, with a somewhat unsteady step, up to her. Mayweather, who had together with Percy arrested Snape those weeks ago had now been assigned to help guard the school. He had been placed to watch the Gryffindor common room whenever any students were there. Harry hadn't paid any attention to the man's presence before, but the self-sufficient smirk on the Auror's face managed to enforce his already existing dislike of the flabby man.

"C'mon, m' dear McGonagall. You're not really going to believe this crap 'bout You-know-who killing Snape? In the fight agains' the light side, that man is a way too importan' soldier for him. Snape knows Hogwarts an' all its weaknesses. The whole information is nothin' but a kid's dream." His words were slightly slurred, testimony of already too much alcohol in the Auror's system.

He leaned over to the professor and brought his hand up, shielding the side of his mouth, as if he intended to whisper, but in his drunken state he only spoke louder. "That's no reason to leave out a party, anyhow, he? A' long a' the reason is good enough for the kids, i's fine with me. If the ministry is dooming us to do a babysitter's job, then we can a'least expec' some fun from time to time. Whataya think? "

McGonagall grimaced degusted as the fire whisky-stinking breath of the man hit her face, but she didn't step back and only gifted the man with one of her coldest glares.

"You are a shame for any decent wizard and especially the honour of the respectable Auror-corps, Mayweather. You even encourage those children to rejoice in the death of another human being. What kind of person are you to take the death of a person, deatheater or not, as an occasion to throw a party? Even if it has only happened in a vision. This irreverence for a human life is the most abdominal thing that I have ever seen. Until now, I have never been forced to witness somebody able to do that." She paused and looked significantly over the crowd of students. "I congratulate you all. You just proved that you're able to think exactly like he-who-shall-not-be-named."

Those words hit deeply. Some of the Gryffindors winced, whilst some even gasped at the implication and nobody managed not to suddenly look very guilty and embarrassed. Only Mayweather still grinned unimpressed.

"You-know-who has never been bothered by somethin' like that. Why should we? I don't care as long as i's one of them who gets it."

McGonagall looked as if she could barely hold back from hexing the man into next week. "Get into your room and fast, Mayweather, or I swear, I will send an owl to the ministry and tell them that I found you drunk while you were supposed to guard the children."

The man paled at the threat and stared at McGonagall with open mouth, as if he would not be able to make his mind up if the professor only bluffed or not. When he came to the conclusion that she wasn't bluffing a bit, he hurried towards the adjoining rooms, which had been set up for him, and disappeared into it. But not without having grabbed the half empty bottle of whiskey on the mantelpiece in the process.

"The same goes for you too. Go to your dormitories", the professor ordered her students. "I will send some house elves to erase this..." she seemed at a loss for words for a moment, as she glanced at the blankets, and her eyes became even colder, "this filth here. You have really deeply disappointed me, and if I ever see something like this again, or hear that you talk with joy about the death of a man who had even before you-know.who's first downfall risked his life to save others, then I will personally deduct so many house points that it'll make your head spin. Understand?"

Some of the students nodded and everybody turned around to mount towards their dormitories. Harry too, turned to return upstairs, when McGonagall's voice held him back.

"Mr. Potter, Mr.Weasley and Miss Granger. You stay here!"

Harry stopped and pressed himself against the wall to let through other boys, who were walking up to their dormitories, and throwing him, Hermione and Ron pitying glances. Harry already suspected what was to come. He had been the one who had told Ron about the vision, which his friend then had relayed to all the others. They would certainly get an earful about that. Hermione was also unlucky; she was their trusted friend and would therefore certainly not be spared the scolding. Harry was prepared to carry the responsibility of his acts and a scolding or detention seemed too little to appease his guiltiness, anyhow.

Only after the last of the other students had vanished to their dormitories did Harry and his friends step all the way down the stairs and walk reluctantly to their head of house.

"Come with me", McGonagall ordered, turning around and walking through the hole in the wall.

Outside, she waited for the three teenagers to follow her and watched the portrait of the fat lady close the entry, before she addressed them.

"I don't want to be overheard by your house mates, so we better talk out here."

"You are not aware of all the facts", Harry blurted out. "We have to tell the others the truth. Snape doesn't deserve this. You know, he hasn't really..."

"I know", the professor interrupted sharply. "The headmaster has told me everything and he asked me to tell you to keep all of it a secret for the moment."

"But why?" asked Ron.

"Yes, why? Snape deserves that they know the truth. Already I am guilty for his death. I don't want to be additionally guilty that the others are unaware of all he did for everybody. I don't want them to hate him just because of me." Harry's voice had, while he talked morphed into a desperate, urging quality and McGonagall's hard eyes softened and she looked at him with compassion.

"I am afraid, Mister Potter, that it was Professor Snape himself who took care of the latter. He just made it too simple for people to hate him. And the saddest thing about it is, that in Severus' eyes, it was his only means to protect himself." She looked very sad, all of a sudden.

"I am just glad that you know the truth at least and that you're honouring his memory. Unfortunately, the others can't know just yet. The Aurors would with all probability not believe your story anyhow, but there could be doubts. Doubts that may compromise Professor Dumbledore's influence. For over a year he's been in discourse with the ministry and has finally made Fudge acknowledge You-know-who's return, even if the minister is still in denial outwards. The continued presence of the Aurors here, however, proves that he doesn't really doubt anymore. And don't forget about Sirius, who can move relatively freely now, since everybody thinks that he's dead. He's an important weapon for our cause, which we can't lose right now. His Animagus form is widely known. You-know-who has certainly been told about that secret by Pettigrew.

Besides, the headmaster ensured that the Dementors are not the only guards anymore and that there are always human guards there too, but he wants those creatures out of the prison. With a little bit of luck, he will succeed soon."

Harry was well aware of the headmaster's thoughts on the Dementors and he too believed, that those creatures would cross over to Voldemort without any further thoughts. His vision of the McGregors proved that Voldemort already planed to get those monsters on his side. If that happened, it was certainly better if they didn't guard a bunch of deatheaters the moment they turned over to the other side.

"Promise me, that you won't say anything for the moment. I know, it's not fair towards professor Snape, but he would certainly not be happy if we now endangered everything for which he ultimately gave his life."

Harry could almost see Snape's disgusted sneer and hear that cutting voice of his. 'The famous Harry Potter just had to spoil everything once again. Not that it would overly surprise me. Ten points off Gryffindor."

Harry smiled fleetingly, at the thought. "We will hold tight, professor, if it's helping our cause."

Hermione and Ron nodded in agreement, their faces set tightly.

T.B.C.

Note from Lilith: Okay, Sorry, that there wasn't much happening in this chapter either but I don't see the three of them just letting the party go on, knowing the truth.


	32. Death's game

Chapter 31:

_Death's game:_

The wait stretched along and Severus did his best to suppress his anxiousness, which stubbornly tried to gain the upper hand, in a strong feeling of fear, expectation and insecurity.

He told himself over and over again that it was all planned out to wear him down before the actual torture. He repeated Lucius' lessons in his mind but knowing the why only made the waiting time a bit more bearable. His subconscious betrayed him repeatedly with a deep-seated fear, against which he couldn't do a thing.

So, he was almost relieved when the door opened once again. He looked over to the entrance, trying hard to morph his face into a bored mask. Now, it all was about bringing Lucius to kill him fast.

"Hello Lucius. Back already? Doesn't the dark lord ever give you a break?"

Severus tried his best, to confront the blond deatheater who now entered, followed by Crabbe and Goyle, with nonchalance.

The two bulky deatheaters were not important enough in rank and would be ignored.

However, Lucius didn't let himself be irritated by Severus' greeting and only smiled amused. "As I see, you have kept your sarcasm, Severus. It will be my utmost pleasure to rip that from you."

Again, he crouched down at Severus' side without a sign of trepidation that his former friend and actual prisoner may attack him. He didn't have to worry about it either. Snape was not as stupid and an attack in his current, weakened state wouldn't serve any purpose. Even if the Malfoy-patriarch looked casual and harmless at the moment, he was perfectly able to defend himself if he had to. Severus knew his former friend well and knew how dangerous he really was, and Malfoy knew that his prisoner was well aware of that too.

"What do you think, Severus? Shall we play a bit?"

Snape only shrugged, knowing that the game had already started long ago. "What do you want to play? Chess perhaps? I am not sure if I'm in the mood. Besides, you have lost every time so far whenever we played that."

Again, his comment seemed to rather amuse Malfoy, so Severus didn't immediately see the wand that the other man pulled out of his sleeve, pointing it at him. Then, Malfoy said in an almost gentle voice: "Crucio."

The curse hit him hotly into his right side and shot like a tentacle through his body from there, putting every cell of his body under fire. Severus found it impossible to concentrate on anything else and his conscious thoughts died as he was completely filled by this unsupportable agony. All that still was there besides the pain was the insentient urge, the animalistic instinct to get away from that agony.

Sometimes, after an impossibly long time, the acute pain stopped even if the echo of it still throbbed in Severus' bones, letting his body shake uncontrollably.

As he became aware of his surroundings once more, he realized that he had tipped over and was lying in a ball on the hard ground. His throat was once again burning hellishly, almost overruling the other pain in the rest of his body. Screaming hadn't done good to his already abused throat, but even though he hadn't consciously been aware to scream, he knew that nobody could stop this instinctive reaction of a body, tortured to such a point.

What was even worse then the pain, however was the distant, yet stubborn thought that he would have to taunt Malfoy to repeat the curse over and over again, holding it long enough to kill him.

"Well, Severus? No more sarcasm?" Malfoy's voice came from somewhere above him. The blond wizard had abandoned his amused tone and now sounded angry and disgusted. "I have sworn to make you lose it. I will break you so slowly that you will gladly submit to our master and plead for us to kill you. I will destroy your will and work you into a pathetic piece of misery, whilst your body will be so damaged that it will rot away while you are still alive."

"Fabulous", Snape managed to croak in between some rattling breaths, ignoring the pain that assaulted his throat at every breath. He had to make Lucius kill him. "May I name my first abscess after you?"

Malfoy didn't look very happy that Severus still had enough strength to be cynical.

"You will be sorry for that insolent tongue of yours. Crucio!"

This time, the curse hit him in his abdomen and Severus wasted a fleeting thought about it being even worse than the last one. The agony immobilized him, nested itself deep into his bones and seemed to pull every cell to shreds.

The attack felt like it would last forever and Severus lost, like before, every orientation. There was nothing but pain. Sense-robbing, all consuming pain.

Finally it stopped, and Severus gulped exhausted for air. The agony lessened slowly and he heard the blood roar in his ears, whilst his head threatened to explode.

His throat burned as much as the first time he had woken up and he knew that he wouldn't be able to move or talk, his body still shaking from the aftermath of the curse.

"Well? Still as talkative?" Malfoy taunted from a non-defined place. The words reached him muffled. Dulled by the blood that was still roaring in his ears. His whole body was in pain, even his hair seemed to hurt and all common sense screamed to him not to say anything more, so that Malfoy had no reason to cast the curse again. Everything, only to avoid further agony like this.

Snape swallowed and winced at the new fire in his throat. He couldn't stop now. He had to end it. Only one more time… He had to anger Malfoy enough so that the blond deatheater would not let him survive the next attack. Only one more time, he tried to convince his screaming sense of self-protection. He needed to hit Malfoy with his words, insult him to the point that the other Slytherin would loose control. What was the most important thing to Lucius? Power and control over others.

Taking one more breath he prepared for the new pain in his throat before he spoke, his voice weak and shaking: "What is the matter, Lucius? You appear to be in a sour mood. Did your wife beat you up again?"

Severus was convinced that the fear in his voice may must have been noticeable and it had taken all his willpower not to stutter, but his words seemed not to miss the desired effect on the proud Malfoy. "You filthy son of a bitch! CRUCIO!"

Pain exploded as violently as before and this time Severus was sure that he was being ripped apart by it. Everything blurred, except the burning agony, which seemed to carry him away on razor-sharp wings, the blades of pain cutting deep into his body, piercing, severing and ripping apart until the light faded and everything drowned in darkness and peace.

Something was not like it should be, was the first thing he thought, when his consciousness returned into wakefulness. Hard stone under him and the worst soreness in his body, which he had ever experienced, were the next things he registered.

He was still in the cell, the pain still present. Which basically meant that he was still alive. Bloody hell!

"Hello Severus. Nice of you to honour us with your presence once more."

Severus was way too tired to open his eyes. What the hell was Malfoy still doing here? Couldn't the man at least have the decency to get lost while he was unconscious and preferably get hit by lightning whilst outside?

"Come on, old friend. I know that you are awake."

Snape made an effort and opened his eyes. He saw Malfoy a couple of metres in front if himself, sitting on a wooden chair and studying him with an evil smirk.

Despite the waves of agony cursing through his body, Severus struggled to get into a sitting position, propping his back against the wall like before. He still had his pride and would not cower on the ground before Lucius if there was no good enough reason, like maybe having the Cruciatus placed on him or being dead.

"You must lead a quite boring life, Lucius, if you get entertained by watching me being unconscious." Severus' throat still burned and it was not easy to make the words more than illegible croaks with the dryness in his throat.

With disgust he realized the dampness of his pants but he ignored it as well as possible, willing to ban the expression of disgust and shame that rose up in him. The Cruciatus curse did to muscles what it wanted and no one had managed so far to keep control over those muscles for longer than the third curse in a row. It was an automatic response of ones body, he told himself. Nothing over which he might have had the slightest control, or which Malfoy wouldn't be aware of. If he only reasoned it rationally – and often enough – he would convince himself that he didn't have to be ashamed for it.

He had had more and better occasions to do that anyway. Back then, in front of a horde of students. Lucius as a solitary spectator was not that bad. It was nothing which hadn't been to expect and was only a further game to humiliate and torture him.

"My, my Severus. Look, now you made a big no-no."

Snape forced himself to not shamefully turn away in response and only leaned his head back against the wall again, closing tired and pained his eyes. "Why don't you sue me, or better, just kill me."

This time, Lucius laughed out loud. "You would like that now, wouldn't you?"

Severus made a harrumphing noise and kept on ignoring Lucius.

"You have been close, my friend. Very close", Lucius continued unperturbed. "This time, I had almost kept the curse on you long enough to render you insane or even kill you. But then I, thank Merlin, soon enough understood what you had tried to do. It was only this that has saved your life."

"I am ecstatic", Severus answered in dry sarcasm.

"Do you remember our past, Severus? We were once friends, you and I, and I have always held you in high esteem. Even after the dark lord's fall, when rumours of you spying became louder, I believed in you. I always believed you too smart to backstab our lord. A true Slytherin. Cunning and proud, no matter what has been done to you. You hit back, rather than crawl into a hole and drown in self pity. For this, you had my full respect."

Severus finally opened his eyes ad looked up to the thoughtful looking wizard on the chair. "And what has changed that opinion? You didn't look very happy that I have been freed from Azkaban."

Malfoy sneered. "I was disgusted by what you had become. A crazy idiot who kills in front of hundreds of witnesses. You are a shame for our house. A Slytherin knows better than that. We resort to ruse and you have acted like an impulsive, brainless Gryffindor."

Severus chuckled softly. "No need to insult me, Lucius."

"No matter. When we got the letter and understood that you were working for the other side, part of my respect for you came back, since you seemed at least to be able to do damage control. I always doubted that your craziness was genuine, and in the meantime I'm convinced that it has been an act. At least the biggest part of it. Which meant that you fell back into the cunning Slytherin-ways to escape the kiss and to keep your chances on both sides. Smart, Severus. Incredibly stupid and dangerous, yet still very clever. I am proud of you. Alas, you will understand that we can't let you live."

Severus closed his eyes again. His body still hurt, especially his throat when he talked and he wanted to be left alone, knowing that he wouldn't get his way. "What is hindering you, Lucius? Two little words and you are rid of me forever."

Severus heard the groaning of the chair as Malfoy stood up and the rustling of his robes, as he approached. Severus opened his eyes again and looked up to his former friend, who was standing half a metre in front of him. "Submit, Severus. Tell me that the dark lord is your master. Use your Slytherin-ish smartness one more time and just say it. I promise that you will have a painless, fast death then."

Somehow, Snape found the compassionate words of Malfoy quite amusing. For his whole life he had been used, and never had he possessed or achieved something that others hadn't done better or possessed before him. Always in the background, always second choice. Never someone, never the winner. Never before had he been able to look into a mirror and be proud of his achievements. To have done something, which his father, Malfoy, Potter or Black were not better at. That's why he wouldn't give in this time. He would keep his honour for once. This time he would be winning.

"I think that you have been correct, Lucius. There must be some brainless Gryffindor-part in me."

Lucius' face morphed from friendly to hateful in a millisecond. "All right. You want it this way. But believe me; you will regret your decision."

T.B.C.


	33. Prelude to hell

Chapter 32:

_Prelude to hell_

"You are solemnly responsible for what is about to happen now, Severus", Malfoy said before he turned away and disappeared through the cell door.

Severus closed his eyes once more, trying to collect himself a bit. Malfoy was no beginner, and he knew exactly how long he could place someone under Cruciatus without causing irreparable damage. Severus had hoped to manipulate the man but now, with his intentions made clear, he wouldn't succeed in that anymore. He would need all his remaining strength to withstand the pain that was soon to come, and to not break after all.

But he wasn't a beginner either. He knew the curse and had been submitted to it before and he had a stronger will than Malfoy or even Voldemort gave him credit for. He would endure all without begging. It was his game and it would become his last and only true victory.

The agony in his body diminished somewhat, after he got time to deal with it, even if there was still the painful dryness and ache in his throat and a slowly increasing thirst, which pained him.

He was unpreparedly pulled back into reality however, as something hard hit him in the stomach, squeezing all air from his lungs. It felt as if he was being attacked by thousands of needles in a sharp bundle of agony, so he instinctively rolled into a foetal position to protect his vulnerable lower body.

Whilst he rolled onto his side and tried to gulp for air, the painful stinging jet wandered upwards to his shoulder and he caught a mouthful of a cold liquid that made him choke as it filled his mouth and flowed down his oesophagus and windpipe.

The water, as what he recognized the liquid, burned hellishly in his windpipe and triggered a coughing fit that shook his body and made him curl into an even tighter ball. Shortly after, the violent jet of water disappeared, but it took quite a moment until Severus had coughed all the wrongly swallowed water out of his lungs and gulped greedily for air.

He was completely drenched at that time and his hair hung like a soaked curtain around his face, sticking in thick strands against his cheeks and forehead.

"He's at least touchable now", he heard Malfoy's disgust-ridden voice. "Take off his shirt."

Before he even really registered what was happening, strong hands seized his upper arms and pulled him uncaringly to his legs and away from the wall into the middle of the cell.

Unwilling to show any more unnecessary weakness, Severus brought his knees to lock and carry his weight. He looked up to see a brawny hand grasp the front of his silken, black shirt and rip it open with a yank so violent that it sent the buttons flying. Somebody else grabbed the backside of his collar and pulled the shirt violently off his shoulders. He glanced to his left and saw how Crabbe let go of him and twisted his arm to wrench it painfully out of the shirtsleeve, making the string of the button there snap too. Severus didn't pay attention to the slight burning sensation of his skin as the fabric rasped over it, nor the protestation of his joints as they were unnaturally twisted and yanked.

Crabbe held onto his now bare arm again, as a just as stupid and disinterested looking Goyle repeated the actions with his other arm. The bulky deatheater looked as if this simple action would require all is intelligence and concentration. He, too, retook his painful grip on Snape's arm right away.

Severus ignored those two and looked at Malfoy, whom was standing in the door and smirking arrogantly at him. Snape answered that with a sneer and a glare of his own, which usually managed to make even his seventh year students more than nervous. He hefted his eyes on the older wizard and did his best to ignore the silvery chains, which Malfoy was holding in his hands.

What the hell did the man want with them anyway? Severus had never before seen that a prisoner was tied down before he was tortured with the Cruciatus. It must be less exciting for such a sick mind like Malfoy's if the victim could not writhe on the floor unrestrained.

The blond wizard still portrayed that expecting, arrogant smirk and didn't let Severus' scowl impress him. He slowly approached until he stopped around a meter before Snape and casually lifted the hand with the chains in it, as if he wanted to show his former friend something rather unimportant.

"Your arms please."

Snape stiffened and clenched his fists, without humouring Lucius' friendly order. He wouldn't give in and submit to the other man.

Lucius made a show of sighing softly, yet he had an expression on his face, as if he'd not expected anything else.

"Crabbe, Goyle?"

The hands on his upper arms tightened their vice-like grip as the two imposing deatheaters stepped closer, grabbed his lower arms and pulled them forcefully up. Snape didn't even try to fight them, knowing that he wouldn't stand a chance against the force of those two. He contented himself to ignore them and kept on glaring at Lucius, who smirked again and changed his grip on the chains.

Severus didn't lower his eyes from the deatheater's face and didn't see what the man did with his hands, yet he heard the threatening jingle of the chain links as they moved together and then he felt cold and heavy iron manacles snap shut around his wrists. Heavily, they hung on his arms and when Crabbe and Goyle let go of him and took a step back he had to flex his muscles so that his hands were not pulled down immediately by the weight of the chain.

Lucius took hold of the heavy chains close by the iron shackles and gave it a strong tug. The weight disappeared but Severus was pulled forwards by his wrists until he found himself only a few centimetres from the blond man's face, who bored his blue eyes into his prisoner's black ones and swore in a dangerous voice that was more of a promise than a threat: "I will break you eventually, Severus."

Malfoy then pushed Severus from him, so that he had to take a step back to not lose his equilibrium and fall. Malfoy still held the end of the chains in his hands and was now pointing his wand at the ceiling, directly above Severus.

"Viniculum anulus!"

A yellowish, pale stream of light left the tip of his wand and hit the stone of the ceiling, where it started to morph and transform into a golden ring, attached firmly to the stone.

"Wingardium Leviosa", Malfoy spoke again, his wand directed at the end of the chain.

Snape observed with helpless anger how the chain moved from Lucius' hand and floated weightless like a feather on wind into the air, following the movements of the wand and gliding up towards the ring. It snaked through the holes, link after link, producing with each one a clinking sound before the chain's end softly descended once again, to land gently in Malfoy's hand.

Snape hated to be tied up. When he had been arrested and led off in front of the whole school some months ago, it had been one of the worst experiences in his whole life and only the necessity of it and the reassuring presence of Dumbledore, who knew the truth and was lending him the necessary strength by that, had made it possible for him to go through it without dying of shame. Now, there were no students and teachers here. Also, Dumbledore's strengthening presence was missing. This time he was all alone.

A pleasured smile played at Malfoy's lips, as he seemed to guess Snape's discomfort. With satisfaction, he pulled at the chain and Severus felt the painful upwards-tug on his wrists. However, this time he stemmed his body against it and held his arms down at his sides, his muscles tightly flexed and rigid while he stubbornly held Malfoy's gaze. Lucius' eyes narrowed to small, angry slits and he pulled harder on the chains, but Severus locked his elbows and tightened his muscles, using all his strength to keep his hands at his sides.

He had never been an athletic person, or very strong physically, but his arms had developed quite some force to withstand resistance through years of lifting and carrying cauldrons and unrelenting stirring sometimes quite sticky potions for hours on end. In this aspect, he had an advantage over the blond Slytherin who had always been spoiled by life and never had done any real bodily work himself. And he was perfectly aware of this too. While Lucius gave another unsuccessful tug at the chain, Severus smirked arrogantly.

"Are you having a problem, Lucius?"

The face of the blond wizard consorted into an angry grimace. "Crabbe!" he barked. "Come over here!"

The bulky man to Severus' left immediately joined Malfoy's side. Lucius then nodded to Goyle at Severus' right side and the big deatheater stepped around the potions master and rammed his fist into the bound man's abdomen, just below the ribs. Like with the water before, all the air was pushed out of Severus' lungs and he gasped in pain and surprise. Instinctively, his body curled around the pain in his stomach, and in this moment of inattention his arms were brutally wrenched up above his head, pulling his body back into an upright position.

His vision blurred as, against his will, tears of pain welled up. Severus still panted for air, trying at the same time to suppress the tears and the pain in his lower body. He clenched his eyes shut and forced himself to take deep, calming breaths. The iron manacles cut painfully into the soft skin at the inside of his wrist as the chains were pulled so tight that he could barely keep his feet flat on the ground, his arms being agonizingly overstretched above his head and leaving no freeway for any movement whatsoever. His shoulder blades started to protest in pain at this unnatural, tensed position and he could do nothing more than breathe shallowly.

He opened his eyes when he felt someone move in front of him. Lucius had approached him again and from the corner of his eyes, Severus saw Crabbe now holding the chain tight. That also explained the easiness with which he now could be held in such a position.

"Now we will see how long you can keep up that pride of yours, Severus."

Malfoy reached inside one of the folds of his robes and pulled out a wire-made whip, which he presented to his former friend like a trophy. Severus did all to hide his surprise and uneasiness. What in seven hells did Malfoy need a whip for? The potions master had counted on being tortured with curses and potions but a whip was unexpected and not Lucius' style at all. He habitually never soiled his hands with such barbaric methods.

Despite his tries to hide it, Lucius seemed to see, or at least to suspect his thoughts.

"I am aware that such things are generally not my style but I don't underestimate your stubbornness. You are familiar with my usual methods and deserve to be surprised by something new. I have sworn to break you, but I know that it will not be easy and I doubt that I'll accomplish that with my normal methods before you'll end up insane. I have once told you that torture is an art, and I'm a master of that art."

Malfoy moved out of Severus' line of sight as he stepped around him, and the potions master squared his shoulders as much as it was possible in his position and balled his fists to prepare for the pain.

Still, despite all his mental preparations, the first stroke hit him like a bolt of lightning and he gasped in pain as the whip left a trail of liquid fire between his shoulder blades.

Something sticky, blood probably, mixed with his still damp skin and traced down his back. He had barely acknowledged this, however, as the next stroke of the whip had already hit. Again, it happened suddenly, full of cutting and burning agony. It was no comparison to the pain that the Cruciatus curse caused, but it was not minder cruel, as every time he was given a pause to mentally anticipate the next blow. The body was hit only in one place, but the spirit didn't lose orientation and realized everything in sharp detail.

At least for the first few hits.

After maybe the third or forth, Severus' surrounding started to blur and he only lived to feel the ever-returning agony on his back and sides.

When it finally ceased, he was hanging limply in his chains. His back and the backside of his legs were soaked and sticky from the blood, and he was only halfway able to still notice what was going on around him.

He felt dizzy and then the pull on his wrist disappeared and he fell unceremoniously to the ground.

Severus found no more energy to move and stayed immobile, laying face down where he had fallen. His sight tunnelled out and the weightlessness of an approaching unconsciousness started to engulf him. But before he could sink into it completely, he heard Malfoy's voice as if it was coming from a great distance.

"Enervate!"

As if some invisible force was hooking into his mind and giving it a strong pull, he was brutally jerked back into consciousness. His eyes shot up and all the drowsiness fell off him, letting the pain come back in all its clear brutality.

Still, he found no force to move as a well-manicured hand reached for his left wrist and someone murmured an incantation. The iron manacle sprang open and fell off his wrist.

Both his arms were seized and forcefully yanked behind his back, where the cuff snapped shut around his wrist again, binding both hands together. The position was uncomfortable for itself, but with the deep cuts on Severus' back it was pure agony.

Alas, it was not as much as when the chain was pulled tight again and his arms were wrenched up. A short yell of pain escaped his throat but his arms were only pulled higher, putting such a pressure on his shoulders that he thought his arms were to be pulled from their sockets. He did his best to get on his feet to alleviate the pain, but every time he managed to move against the pressure and lessen it the chain was pulled tight again. He finally got to his feet, but the shackle was still being pulled up, more and more, until he thought that he couldn't stand the pressure anymore and lost the ground under his feet.

He groaned loudly and pressed his eyes shut. The pressure on his shoulders was insupportable, while the iron bracelets cut deeper into his skin and it became almost impossible to breathe with his chest overstretched in such a manner.

"Crabbe, you stay here for the first four hours. Take care that he doesn't fall asleep. I'll send someone to take your place after that time."

A grunting confirmation was to hear and then Severus heard the door close with another groan.

T.B.C.

A/N: I'm sorry if the updates take a while for the moment. Some big problems in real life showed their ugly heads and they take away a lot of my time at the moment. However, I'll try to work more on the translation the following week, so I hope that I'll get back on track soon. Still, there will not be any postings next week, for I will not have any access to internet. The rape-chapter is almost done too, and I'll start to send it out by the next weekend to everybody who wants it and sent or will still send me his or her addy.

Betaed by Slytherin's silver snakeJ


	34. The game goes on

Chapter 33:

_The game goes on:_

There was nothing that Severus longed more for than sleep and water. To get rid of this thirst and exhaustion was all he still wanted.

He had lost all sense of time. Had it been hours? Days? It felt more like months, even if he rationally knew that it couldn't have been longer than two or three days at the most, since otherwise he would already have died of thirst. He had been hung up by his tied-back hands over and over again, until his shoulders had given in under the pressure and had dislocated. Then his arms had been relocated and his shoulders and wrists were healed, only to start the game once again.

Every time that he had lost consciousness out of fatigue or pain, they had brought him back with an Awakening Charm.

Severus would never have thought that he'd ever fear a curse more than the Cruciatus. Enervate was originally meant to wake somebody from the stunning spell, but it also seemed to work perfectly well to keep somebody conscious. Still, as exhausted as he now felt, Severus suspected that the curse wouldn't work much longer anyhow, or that it would render him insane.

They didn't take his most fundamental needs into any kind of consideration, and he was only hosed down to wash away any blood, which flowed down from the cuts that the manacles caused, grime or other bodily fluids which just couldn't be held back for such a long period of time. At first, that had been more than humiliating but soon it lost all importance under all the pain and fatigue. And at a point it had become unnecessary to clean him anyway, apart for the blood. There was just no more fluids left that his body could afford to shed.

The absence of water had dried out his mouth, made his tongue swell and his lip crack. Every time he was hosed down they gagged him, and he was thus unable to ingest more than a few drops of fluid. He could feel the water on his skin, could smell it even, but he wasn't able to drink.

Nonetheless, he had yet to give in. He still had managed to keep his stubbornness, still willing to fight and win against Malfoy and Voldemort. He would never acknowledge Voldemort as his master.

The door opened again and Snape closed the eyes. They were early this time. His shoulders were still intact. The Death Eater, who was always in the room to wake him whenever he drifted into unconsciousness, was usually then replaced when his shoulders were relocated and healed.

The chains were loosened and he was lowered to the ground, where he fell into a formless heap, before two unknown Death Eaters approached, opened the manacles, grabbed him by his upper arms and lifted him upright.

Severus' arms started to prickle uncomfortably as the circulation started to flow again and his legs failed to carry his weight. After one more unsuccessful try to get his legs under him he gave up, going limp in the grip of his two guards. The two Death Eaters didn't waste any time and hauled him, half dragging, and half carrying, out of the room.

At the moment it didn't matter to Severus where he was brought. It just couldn't get worse anymore.

The two Death Eaters dragged him down several corridors, his naked feet dragging over the raw floor and Severus started to drift again.

„Enervate!"

With a mental groan, Severus jerked up under the pulling sensation of the curse. He must have lost consciousness for a short moment because he was now sitting on a plain wooden chair, his arms tied magically to the armrests. They had brought him into a darkened, gloomy room with an arched ceiling. The chamber was big but so dark that it was not possible for Severus to make out many details.

He felt miserable and almost sick, so tired was he. His throat, shoulders and arms burned, his stomach clenched and he had the feeling to have his mouth stuffed full of cotton.

"Hello Severus," Malfoy, who was sitting on another chair facing him, greeted. "How are you doing?"

Severus couldn't answer. He didn't want to, either. All he wanted to do was sleep. If he could only close his eyes...

„Enervate!"

Again, he was brought back into reality before his senses could completely cloud over.

"Give him some water," he heard Malfoy say.

_'Yes, give me water'_, he begged inwardly. The thirst was almost as bad as the exhaustion.

All he was given, however, was a wet piece of cloth, which was held against his mouth. Yet, he couldn't care less and sucked greedily on the wetness. The fluid felt good on his dried-out mouth and run soothingly cool down his throat. It was heavenly, and only too fast, the cloth was taken away again. Severus only just managed to suppress a disappointed whimper, and instead licked his cracked and hurting lips with his now wet tongue.

"You'll get more later," Malfoy said, looking amused and Severus closed his eyes, exhausted.

Somebody grabbed him by his hair and pulled his head back into his neck. "Look at me, Severus."

Malfoy's voice was friendly, but Severus knew this friendliness to be fake so he chose to ignore it.

"One would think that Dumbledore should have found you by now, or, at least that he would have searched," Malfoy said, and with that had Severus' attention back again. The potions master glared at the other man who smirked at him.

"What good did it do you, Severus? What has it brought you to betray us? Our lord has freed you from Azkaban. Dumbledore isn't doing a thing to search for you. Surely you were due to report to him a long time ago with information of our last place of gathering."

Severus smiled briefly. Malfoy was still suspecting the letter to be genuine, but Dumbledore would probably not know for a while what had happened to him. They had agreed to cut any contact to keep the risks as small as possible. Malfoy wasn't aware of that. If Dumbledore knew that he had been found out, he would never abandon him. The old man was too Gryffindorlike sentimental for that.

But Lucius' smile broadened too. "I recon that I know what you're thinking about. You think that the old fool would search for you, the minute that he knew of your situation. Well, my friend. He already does know that your cover is blown."

Severus' eyes widened and his breath caught in his throat. That was impossible. How should Albus know about it? Severus wanted to protest, but his hurting throat didn't let any sound pass.

Malfoy, however, seemed to guess his train of thoughts. "I would like to be able to say that my son was giving us all this information. But it was Goyle's son who seemed to take a vast amount of pleasure in writing to his mother about everything that happens in school. Most of it is only teenager rubbish, but some of it is quite useful. He has already given us detailed information about your change of behaviour, and now he has let us know that the Gryffindors had thrown a big party, because our mutual friend Potter has had a vision about the fact that you have been found out."

Severus had trouble to process that all. They knew? If Potter knew, then Albus would too. Which meant that there was still a small shimmer of hope. If Albus found him in time, he just may have a chance for escape. His resolve to fight the Dark Lord's demands grew to new intensity. Albus would get him out of this private little hell. Sooner or later, he would find him here, wherever that was, and for the first time in his life, Severus thanked destiny for the existence of Harry Potter.

"Unfortunately, I have to disappoint you, if you're thinking that he would save you. Goyle told us that a veritable wave of euphoria went through the school, and almost everyone, apart from the Slytherins, are happy to be rid of you for good. Dumbledore seems no different at all, and doesn't even appear to try finding you. Strange behaviour for someone who claims to care about you, don't you think? He even goes so far as to name you his grandson. You're not really related to him, we both know. He has only manipulated you. Played the big caring act to get you to do what he wanted of you. Just like everybody else who ever treated you with respect and friendliness did. But this you know yourself, don't you, Severus? Whoever wants to be friends with someone like you without any ulterior motive? With a bitter, greasy, ugly looser like you. You have always been and will always remain a means to an end, so desperately in search for acceptance that you'll never understand that someone like you will never be liked or cared for."

Severus tried to move his head in the negative, as if he could shake off Malfoy's words like that, but the Death Eater still held him immobile. Albus wasn't like this. Malfoy was lying. Undoubtedly, the headmaster would already be searching for him. He wasn't a tool to be used and discarded by the headmaster, because, even if the letter had been a fake, Dumbledore considered him like family. Like he did with so many others, especially those under his care.

Against his will, Severus felt a weak feeling of doubt blossom in his chest. But what if that wasn't the case? What if he had only read things in the headmaster's friendly words and compassionate and patient gestures towards him that weren't there? What if Malfoy was right after all? Sadly, the whole school was most likely celebrating and albeit that it was his own doing in keeping everyone at arms length, it still felt quite unfair. Hadn't he done enough for those imbeciles that they would at least keep from throwing a party when he was being tortured? Hadn't he already suffered enough, so that they would remember him without abhorrence? It was like back in his school days. Back then, he had been hurt and humiliated, because of which he had built a wall around himself. A wall that would keep all those disgusting, pathetic and false people out. But all it had brought him, to keep the others from hurting him, was to hurt himself in the end. Malfoy was right in one thing. He was a bitter, greasy, ugly loser. Nobody had any reason to like anything about him, apart his usefulness. Nobody in his right mind would ever miss him – not even Albus Dumbledore.

When that thought took root, he felt a hot sting in his eyes even though the tears didn't come to surface. Somewhere inside, he knew that the sleep deprivation, the torture and his weakness made him prone for Malfoy's words, but there was nothing that he could do against it.

The hand let go of his hair and Malfoy almost gently supported his chin, as he leaned down to him until his face was mere centimetres before Severus'. "Tell me what I want to hear and I'll free you of this life where nobody wants you to be."

Malfoy's voice sounded sincere, but in his clear eyes laid a sparkle of triumph, which pulled Severus out of his exhaustion-born self-pity, letting him think clearer than he had for a long time. Like Malfoy had said, he had up until now never been more than a bitter, ugly loser, but he wouldn't die like that. It didn't matter if Dumbledore would find him or not. If all were the truth or merely a manipulative lie, this time Severus Snape would not lose.

He opened his mouth to tell Lucius what he thought of him and Voldemort, but still he was unable to articulate a sound. So he contented himself to glare darkly at the other man and shook his head forcefully, even if that movement made him dizzy and gnawed away his last reserves of strength until he started to drift off again.

"Enervate!"

Severus hated this curse. He hated it above everything. Despite his being awake again, he stubbornly kept his head down.

"All right, Severus. If you want to do it the hard way, it is quite all right with me," Malfoy hissed, all friendliness erased from his voice, as if it had never been there at all.

"Nott, come and hold his head. I want him to watch."

Someone, Nott most likely, moved up behind him, grabbed his head on both sides and forced it up.

"Hello Severus; it's nice to see you again. It has been a while." Nott's voice in its cynical anticipation chased a cold shiver up Snape's spine.

But his attention was led from the man at his back onto the short knife, which Malfoy now held in his hands. The blond Death Eater lifted the blade up in front of his face as if he wanted to inspect it. "Are you quite sure that you don't want to make it easier for yourself?"

Severus concentrated to push back his growing fear. He had no idea what Malfoy planned with the relatively small knife, but it couldn't be anything good, this he knew. So far, the deatheater had hardly used any of his usual torture methods and had with that taken a big part of knowledge and therefore orientation from Severus. Still, he held Malfoy's gaze and forced himself to take deep, calming breaths.

Lucius sighed theatrically, before he lowered his gaze to Severus' left hand. "You have always had very skilled hands, Severus." He moved the tip of the blade absently over the individual fingers of Severus' hand. "You never particularly cared about your looks, Severus, but in our noble position one should care about a decent appearance. Even if there isn't much hope in your case, without the help of magic. Still…." He paused, covered Severus' hand with his own and placed the tip of the knife against fingernail, "…a manicure wouldn't do you any harm."

And with those words, he took the thumb in a vicelike grip and pushed the blade brutally slowly under the nail bed.

Severus grit his teeth, as the pain shot from the finger up his arm. Malfoy pushed the knife deeper and wiggled it a bit until he had loosened the nail sufficiently to hold it down onto the blade and pull it off the finger with a strong yank.

Severus gasped in pain, but he didn't scream. Still, his hand started to tremble whilst the pain throbbed where the nail had been ripped off the finger. Lucius held the bloody nail up for him to see and Severus' stomach clenched. He felt really sick now, even though he knew that this was only a relatively harmless little game that Malfoy had pulled out of that sick brain of his, and that in the big scheme, this wouldn't be the worst of what would be done to him.

Still, he shrank back instinctively, as the blade now lowered to his left index, tracing it from hand to tip. Nott laughed amusedly behind him, still holding his head immobile, and Malfoy grinned sadistically whilst he grabbed the index, holding it tight and placing the knife at its nail bed.

T.B.C.

Thanks to Slytherin's silver snake and Sadistra for betaingJ


	35. Way to freedom

Chapter 34

_Way to freedom:_

Severus instinctively knew that he was back in his cell, even before he had wholly returned into consciousness. They had let him slip into unconsciousness this time. Sleep at last. The constant dizziness, the queasiness and the twisted half-reality which had engulfed his brain were almost completely gone, even if the various pains in his body were sharper to feel now, and his hands and back especially pained him.

At least his shoulders were only dully throbbing now, since he hadn't been hung up anymore, and he now lay on his belly on the floor and the chains, which still were attached to the manacles around his writs, lay limply on the ground in front of him.

He lifted his head from the floor and followed the chains with his eyes. No longer were they pulled through the ring. Now, they were attached to the wall besides Goyle, who sat slumped over on a chair, obviously fast asleep.

Why there was still a guard in his room Severus couldn't contemplate. They didn't seem to continually want him conscious anymore and he wasn't either still hung up, so they didn't have to keep an eye on him for when his shoulders dislocated Neither could they honestly fear that he'd escape. As if he really still had enough strength left to get out of the manacles, a closed cell and the building, which undoubtedly was swarming with Death Eaters… Ridiculous. Malfoy and his cronies were decidedly being over-careful.

Severus closed his eyes again and laid his head back down to the ground. He'd better make good use of the unexpected break to recuperate as much strength as possible, before the torture would restart.

The grinding sound of the stone door, when it moved over the ground, reached his ears again. The noise had in the meantime become so habitual to Severus that it would probably haunt him in his dreams for as long as he still lived, just like the reverberating **_"_**_Clonk" _that soundedwhen the door fell back into lock, reminding him in all clarity that he was a prisoner here.

So he knew, without opening his eyes, that someone had come into the cell. Maybe he would get a bit of satisfaction, if he could watch Goyle being reprimanded for having fallen asleep whilst on watch. Severus did his best to fake continued unconsciousness.

**"**Hey, Goyle," whispered Crabbe urgently. **"**Wake up."

Severus fought the urge to groan out loud. Crabbe and Goyle were too stupid and too good friends and to sneak the other on.

A grunting noise proved Goyle to wake up. **"**What are you doing here? It's not yet your turn to keep guard," he said, under a yawn.

"What about a little break? My wifehas packed me some of her famous stew and I don't feel like eating alone."

A deep groaning of Goyle's stomach, answered that proposition. Severus rolled his eyes mentally. Those two greedy idiots. They were thinking with their stomachs rather than with the little bit of brainsthat they possessed.

**"**Can't do or I'm in trouble with Malfoy. Sorry."

How sorry he really was, it was clearly audible in his disappointed voice, Severus thought with sarcasm.

"Aww, c'mon. It won't take long. You would be back in twenty minutes at most. Snape is still out cold and he will remain that way for quite a while longer, after what Malfoy did to him. That guy is completely wasted. No one will know anythingI'm sick of just sleeping, or guarding the traitor all the time.We have a life of our own and a right for a break now and then."

**"**I'm not sure."

**"**Come on. They won't notice a thing. Malfoy isn't even here, I think."

**"**All right," Goyle replied at last **"**but for no more than twenty minutes."

Severus could practically picture the broad, stupid grin on Crabbe's face. **"**You could do with a break, out of this stinking hole here."

Robes rustled and two pairs of feet walked out. The door moved once more with the same old groaning, and fell close with a … Snape startled. Just a minute, where was the "_Clonk_"?

He looked up and turned his head enough to see the door. There was a long shadow along its vertical outline, which looked as if thrown by a door, not entirely closed. If one didn't pay attention to it, then it could easily be overlooked and if one didn't pay attention to the missing noise, it could be easily overlooked**  
**  
A shimmer of hope flamed up in Severus and he swallowed hard.

The fact that the door was open wouldn't really help him. The building, in which the cell was situated, was certainly heavily guarded, and he was still chained up as well.

He lowered his eyes longingly to the manacles around his chafed wrists, a memento from his last hanging experience. The manacles were locked magically and showed neither an opening nor a lock that he could have, perhaps, pried open.

The manacles moved a bit and rasped over the raw skin. Severus winced. This new pain was manageable, in face of the thirst and the pain originating in his neck and back, and the burning of his fingertips. Still, he moved the manacles a bit higher up his arms to relieve the painful areas. Only because they didn't hurt as much as his other injuries, against which he couldn't do anything, Severus didn't see any reason not to lessen the pain, if it was so easy to be done.

He was grateful to have relatively slim hands and forearms so he could push them up to almost his elbows. It was one of his trademarks, and his father had often taunted him about having hands like a girl. It was indeed true that he had quite elegant and skilled hands, and it was something that came in quite handy in good potions brewing. He had the necessary skill to handle and prepare delicate and rare ingredients.

Well, Malfoy had pretty much taken care of that by ripping out his nails. Now, his hands were blood encrusted and his fingertips were nothing more than an ugly piece of meat.

If he was not dying here, then the nails would re-grow, making his hands to be as elegantly as before. If…only if.

And then he had an idea. Turning over onto his back he brought his arms up in front of his face and inspected the manacles. It had been quite simple to move the iron rings up to his elbows…

He didn't want to get his hopes up too much, for what he had in mind would probably not work anyway, but if the manacles were destined for a man with average wrists, then he may still have a slight chance.

Severus took hold of one of the rings and pushed it back down, until the base of his hands blocked any further movement. Normally, the metal wouldn't pass over it, but if he positioned the ring correctly, drew in his thumb and used a bit of force, it could maybe  
be done.

Suppressing the growing hope and excitement, he started to move the metal in twisting movements further and further.

It wasn't easy and Severus clenched his teeth, when his skin was scraped raw and the pain in his fingers intensified. But then, with a last, powerful pull, he finally held an empty manacle in his hands.

Severus could hardly suppress a loud cry of excitement. He was not out yet, but he felt more hope than he had since the beginning of his captivity.

The second manacle was a bit harder to take off, since his hands had started to shake in anxiety. But after another minute or two he was free of the chain. Without losing any more time, he rolled back onto his stomach and tried to rise on his knees and hands. It was soon obvious, however, that the torture and the absence of water and food had been hard on his body. He wouldn't manage to walk without support. So he crawled painfully slow towards the door. There he managed to pull himself, with the support of the wall, to his feet.

An intense dizziness took hold of him immediately and the cell started to spin and his vision to tunnel out, but he fought to stay conscious. Only after his vision cleared and he once more knew where was up and down, he pushed himself a bit off the wall, one hand still braced against it. Then he turned his attention towards the door.

Just as he had hoped, it hadn't clicked closed and when he laid his weight against it, it sluggishly moved open.

Severus thanked any deity that might care to listen. He had a real chance now. If he managed to get out of the dungeons, then he could hide somewhere until he had recuperated enough of his strength to return to Hogwarts.

His mind made up, he forced his weak legs to carry him through the door and out in the tunnel-like corridor in front of his cell.

**"**Sirius? I have great news. Where are you?"

Remus Lupin entered Albus Dumbledore's office almost bouncing with excitement, a wide grin plastered upon his face. Getting no answer, he walked over to the bookshelf at the left side wall and first pulled a thin, red book, and then a thick, leather-bound brown one halfway out, and waited for the shelf to move aside making the hidden entrance open up and give way to Dumbledore's private quarters.

He stepped into the small salon, from which three doors led to Dumbledore's private quarters, in a guestroom of which Sirius Black currently resided.

**"**Sirius?" he called once again, and through the door at the right wall strolled Black. Barefoot, the hem of his white shirt halfway stuffed into the waistband of his black trousers, the Animagus was in the process of rubbing his damp hair dry with a towel.

**"**What's the matter, Remus? I was just under the shower."

Remus' grin broadened. **"**Albus did it! The dementors are being pulled off of Azkaban. He finally convinced Fudge that the disaster with the dementors that attacked Harry was only the top of the iceberg and that there was no way of having completely control over those monsters."

**"**Finally!" saidSirius and hethrew his hands up. **"**That took like forever. I already started to think that we wouldn't achieve anything anymore."

**"**You know Albus. He's not somebody who gives up easily, and he always manages to get other people to do exactly what he wants of them. Now, we only need to  
get the rest of the ministry's support. We need more men.

If we all fight together, only then can we vanquish He-Who-Should-Not-Be-Named without help of the poison.Maybe all would still end up all right and Snape's failed mission hasn't cost us the last possible chance."

Sirius' face instantly grew grave and sad. Harry had had a very hard time that he had shattered the mission out of a false sense of loyalty. He still blamed himself and it took a lot out from Sirius to diverse his godson's solemn thoughts, but during the day he unfortunately couldn't do much becauseHarry was being kept away in classes. Remus had taken over the job of keeping an eye on Harry, whenever Sirius could not.

**"**And how was Harry today?" he asked worriedly.

**"**He has calmed down a bit, I think," answered Lupin, with a not mindfully worried looking frown.

**"**Do you think that he finally understands that Snape's failure isn't his fault?"

**"**Oh, he does understand, but that's not the question. Guilt hardly ever listens to logic, especially if it concerns a sixteen year old boy."

It was silent for a minute, and Sirius gnawed absently his lower lip.

**"**Do you think that I'm a bad person to still hate him?" he asked finally.

**"**Who do you mean?" asked Remus softly.

Sirius sighed and turned away from his childhood friend, facing a painting in a faded, massive frame, on which two horses grazed peacefully. "Snape. I know what he has risked for us; that I should be grateful because he helped change the future, but I just can't get myself to mourn his death. Everything I feel, when I think of him, is rage over the fact that Harry has is now loaded with such a heavy guilt"

Lupin chuckled. **"**It is humane, Sirius, nothing else. To feel gratitude towards someone, it means to accept and even respect the other person to some extent, so you can accept the other's actions. Severus and you have too long of a bad history together to admit such a  
respect. I strongly suppose that Severus didn't feel very grateful either, when Prongs saved his life.

**"**In order to regret his death, you would first have to stop picturing him as the basic incarnation of all that which you have always loathed and fought against. You would have to start seeing him as a human being."

Sirius spun around to glared in offence at the werewolf. **"**What nonsense are you talking about? Of course I know that he was a human being, but of the worst, inhumane and most awful kind that wander this planet. He has destroyed too many lives as a Death Eater and one good deed will not wash him from that guilt. With all due respect for the risk that he took, and for the life that he lost, that life is still the smaller price than the lost chance. Well, but then again, the chances had been slim from the start. That bloody house elf could have well done more than give simple information and the recipe too. The fact that it travelled one year to the past shows clearly that there is more behind the magic of these creatures."

**"**Every wizard with eyes in his head knows that there is more to the house elves than meets the eye.Only, those little guys keep it well hidden, what they are really capable of. But that they are very powerful is out of question, I guess."

**"**I only ask myself, why they let their masters treat them this way then and why they let themselves be ordered around like this," Sirius snorted.

**"**It's their nature. Just like a bird's is to fly. Or a werewolf's to kill. And I must say that I'm glad that they don't have more aggressive ambitions. In any case, Dobby has proved to us how loyal he is to Harry, even though he has been set free."

**"**Loyalty isn't always everything, as you too had to learn," growled Sirius.

Lupin waved him off. **"**Don't be so bitter. Dobby did warn us, didn't he? Which reminds me; why are you still here anyhow? Albus has informed the other members of the order of our plan. You don't need to stay imprisoned here anymore."

Sirius snorted. **"**If I'd go to the headquarters, then I'd only change one prison for another. Snape isn't the only one who has lost in this plan. I can't hide behind Snuffles anymore and here, I at least have Harry, you and Albus around me all the time. And some of my best memories lie in those rooms and hidden passages of the school. Albus has promised me that I could go into the forbidden forest from time to time, to get some fresh air. There I'll hardly ever meet anyone who knows of my Animagusform and could thus endanger me." He paused momentarily. **"**If only the Aurors would finally get lost..."

"Severus' message has helped to convince Fudge about the Dementors. That the Aurors are lurking around now is unfortunate, but in a few weeks at most, they will certainly be pulled off again, when no attack has occurred until then," Remus said.

**"**I just hope that you are right. Harry has enough worries as it is. He doesn't need some Auror breathing down his neck all the time, only because he is the Boy Who Lived."

T.B.C.

Thanks to Slytherin's silver snake and Sadistra for betaing this :-D


	36. The devil's game

Chapter 35:

_The devil's game:_

Snape realized very fast that he had absolutely no notionof where he was. He was also rather certain that he had never been in these dungeons before. They seemed to be fairly used, however, if the occasional hoarse cries of agony, which echoed from somewhere down the corridors were any indication.

As Severus fought to remain walking along the corridor, he crossed stone doors that were like the one that built the entrance to his cell.These corridors were narrow, dark and theysmelled of years of decay. The ground was relatively even, but in certain places the walls looked so irregular, as if they had been hammered out of a massive rock.

Severus followed the slightly wider and better lit corridor, which had been running aside his cell and ignored the dark passages, which occasionally diagonally crossed the main passageway. He didn't have much of anidea where he was going, but he mobilized all his remaining strength to move away from the weaker growing cries behind him. He assumed that the corridor must be somewhere underground, for there was not a window anywhere and only sporadic torches dipped the walls into trembling plays of shade and light. As fast as possible, he headed along the main corridor, which led upwards in a steady gradient. He had to put as much distance as possible behind him, before anyone would notice his escape. If that happened before he was out of here, then he would be trapped in this maze of corridors and they could easily block any exit and recapture him, hunting him down like a bloody rat.

If only his body would not hurt so much and his thirst and weakness would not make him sway so precariously.

Severus could already feel lucky to hold himself upright to some extent, even if he was only able to advance slowly and with staggering steps, as his strength seemed to continually seep out of him.

The corridors themselves seemed to be deserted, since the Death Eaters were probably busy torturing the poor, screaming soul further back. Whether it was luck or coincidence, or only the fact that it was meal time according to Goyle's statement, Severus didn't know. He couldn't care less anyway. His main goal was to get out of here and at the moment it looked like his chances were not as totally bad as he had first expected them to be. If his luck held on, then he may perhaps even make it back to Hogwarts.

A strengthening, euphoric feeling overcame him, despite the pitiful condition in which he was in. He would show it to those Gryffindors and would thoroughly spoil their fun and squash their desire to throw a party. That his torture was celebrated by them, was thereby not even the worst, this house had done to him. Since the first day, on which he had set foot on Hogwarts, certain Gryffindors had made it their goal to make his life miserable and try to get the better of him. But he had survived nevertheless and he would be back to make their life and potions class a living hell again. Potter's and Black's house had never been nice to him and he was ready to return the favour hundred times worse. Oh yes. Those stupid imbeciles of students could prepare for so many detentions and deducted points that every prospect to party would be stuffed down their throats.

He had Albus' friendship and the respect of the Slytherins and most teachers. Those were the only persons he regarded as important anyway. For the rest – he was content enough not to let them get too close to him as it was.

Severus Snape would not be made fun of and he would be the last one laughing.

As he thought about future classes and possible punishments, a content smirk crept upon his face and it didn't even bother him as his cracked lips' skin broke once more, making it sting painfully again.

The corridor shifted into an upwards slope and Severus did his best to calm his racing heart. The weakness and the pain in his body were pushed into the background, as the excitement of the proximity of near liberty drove the adrenalin into his blood. All his efforts to suppress the growing excitement and hope were brought to naught, however, when he saw the corridor become wider and brighter. After another bend, a wall of bright daylight only twenty metres in front of him came into view.His excitement activated his last reserves, and he accelerated his staggering steps towards liberty.

He stepped into the light and had to shut his eyes momentarily against the brightness, which seemed to burn itself into his retina. Carefully, he blinked and pried his eyes open into narrow slits. Gradually, his eyes accustomed to the light and he then realized that the sun did not shine at all but hid behind a cover of grey clouds. Nevertheless, everything seemed bright to him and it felt marvellous, as if he were seeing the sun after months full of rain. His first impulse was to laugh out loud, but he knew that he was not in security yet. He had to be careful to not run into a possible guard, of which there would undoubtedly be some here, guarding this place

He could **_-_** under normal circumstances **_-_**easily creep by the guards without being discovered. He was cunning enough for that. The problem would rather consist of getting his body to cooperate. As it looked right now, he was hardly able to keep upright without the wall behind himself for support.And that was now, with his adrenalin still on high. When the first excitement over his sudden escape dimmed, his body would pay the price for the momentary energy burst. Up to then he had to be gone from here.

Severus took a closer look around. The entrance to the dungeons, in which he had spent the last few days, was actually a cave at the foot of a steep quarry. Where this quarry was, he was not able to say, but it wasn't important anyhow.

As soon as he was outside of the Apparation barrier, which Voldemort logically placed around each of the dungeons, and if his body was still playing along, he would be able to Apparate into Hogsmeade and into security.

He inhaled deeply and concentrated to pry himself from the wall and to make some steps onto the rubble-loaded plateau, away from the entrance of the cave. He needed his complete concentration and will power, in order to suppress the trembling of his legs and the dizziness in its head.

Determined, he grit his teeth, not ready to give up so close to his goal. He would get back to Hogwarts. Back to the castle, which had always been the only place he dared to call home. Back to Albus and to his Slytherins.

A sudden mocking laughter rang out behind him. His heart missed a beat and he stopped dead in his tracks.

"The way you look, you aren't even going to make it ten metres on your own, not to speak about escape."

He whirled around, a devastating shock numbing all his thoughts.

A short distance besides himself, close to the wall of the quarry, stood Malfoy and Nott, a sadistic smile spread on their faces. On their side was a broadly grinning Crabbe and a fidgeting, somewhat stupid looking Goyle.

Severus saw the scene, but his consciousness did not quite process it, although he instinctively correctly evaluated the situation. Yet his brain forcefully fought to accept the truth because it was simply too terribly degrading and unfair.

"I have just lost a bet with Nott, because of you, Severus. I would never have thought that you would come that far at all if we left you the possibility for escape," Lucius said coolly.

And then, suddenly, everything made painful sense. The departure of Goyle, the cell door left open, the loosely sitting handcuffs, everything had been done intentionally. A further bloody game of Malfoy's. And he had, blindly and naively, stepped into the trap.

And then, for the first time, the knowledge really crashed down on him. There was no getting out of here.

Regardless that he had never been a man who floated in fantasies, somehow the small flicker of hope had held itself in his heart, to somehow survive the torture. Although he had always known that this place and Malfoy would be his death, his sub consciousness had, in a steadfastness like only human self-preservation could do, clung to the fact that there was still hope as long as his heart beat. Up to now he had still been able to hold back the hopelessness, but now it crashed down upon him with the violence of a tidal wave.

Under the force of the new feeling he began to tremble. "No, no, no," he whispered, without even being aware of his denial. Everything all of a sudden just appeared so futile and hopeless and he debated with himself for one moment, whether he should laugh or cry, but then went for an all-denying shake of his head.

"Bring him back to his cell," Malfoy instructed indifferently and Crabbe and Goyle moved towards him with such a relaxation, it was as if they'd been sent to collect firewood.

But when they reached for its upper arms, life came into Severus again. This was the last time that he would see the free sky. The moment that he would be back in the hole of a dungeon, he would already be buried alive. And with that thought and a momentum of desperate panic, he started to fight the grasp of the two Death Eaters, striking at them in blind panic.

His actions were instinctive, panicked and all but controlled, but his two guards were momentarily startled, and Severus managed to hit Crabbe violently into his nose. The Death Eater howled in pain and brought his two hands to its face, covering the hurting place. Goyle too, loosened his grip in surprise and Severus staggered a few steps back with his arms raised in front of his chest, heaving heavily and watching his two aggressors with wild eyes.

Malfoy did not seem to be very pleased over his resistance, even if he did sound rather impatient than worried. "Crabbe, Goyle, you idiots. Don't tell me that you are afraid of him. Snape looks like a frightened rabbit and at the moment he is approximately just as dangerous. Seize him. NOW!"

The two hesitated only a second more, before they threw themselves at the potions master with a cry of rage and pushed him off his legs by their sheer weight.

Severus felt the collision a fraction of a second before he lost his orientation and equilibrium and hit the stone ground hard with his back. A sound of pain and surprise formed in his throat, but the force of the impact drove all air from his lungs, so that only a surprised gasp came over its lips and his vision blurred for one moment.

When his view cleared again, he was still laying on the ground, looking up at the sky above with its mockingly peaceful moving clouds. Crabbe and Goyle lay on his torso and his legs, which made it impossible to move a little more then one millimetre.

Severus tried to collect himself and then, suddenly Malfoy towered over him, his frame absurdly pulled into length from Severus' perspective at Lucius' feet.

The blond Death Eater looked arrogantly down at him, his left eyebrow arched disapprovingly. He pulled his wand from his robe and pointed it at Severus' face.

"That wasn't a very smart thing to do, Severus. You do know that I have to punish you for your fight and attempted escape, don't you?"

Severus' senses where somewhat back; his panic attack from before was expired together with his strength and now only fury, disappointment and hopelessness mixed together and he started anew to struggle against the weight on his chest, which made it so hard to respire.

"Hold him down," came Malfoy's barked instruction and the body over Severus' chest grew even heavier as the big Death Eater adjusted his weight, making it definitely impossible to breathe now. Severus panted for air, while the panic to suffocate slowly crept up on him.

The pointed end of a wand, which bored itself into the skin of his forehead, diverted him momentarily from his oxygen-problem and he could make out the upper shaft of the wooden instrument in the hand of Lucius.

**"**Stupefy!"

Up until seven years ago, Harry had never even heard of a sport called Quidditch. Six years ago, he had become the youngest seeker in over one hundred years ago. Five years ago, when Draco Malfoy, his biggest rival in school, had become the seeker of Slytherin, Quidditch had mutated into nothing else but a game about prestige between the two houses. Here they could carry out their open rivalry relatively open, only submitted to the rules of the game.

But the severity and determination, which had been shown up to recently in the plays between the two houses, were nothing compared to what went off this year on the playing field. The enmity between the houses had grown into a full fledged hatred, since the story with Snape. Harry himself was convinced that the thing with their former head of househad simply been the straw that broke the camel's back and sped up everything. Sooner or later, especially with Voldemort's resurrection, the tension would have grown to such an exten**t** that an explosion would have been unavoidable anyhow.

For Harry, however, the Slytherin's behaviour only made it harder to live with his mistake.

With a sigh it tore himself from his thoughts and focussed his attention back to the game underneath his broom. On a broom, in the middle of the air, with Bludgers flying around your head, it was definitely a bad timing to let ones thoughts roam.

He watched how Ron prevented the opposing team to score with a risky looking manoeuvre on his broom. Ron was the keeper of Gryffindor for a bit more than a year now, since Woods had graduated from school after their fourth year. Ron wasn't such a natural with the broom as Harry was, but what he was missing out on talent, he compensated with will and hard work and since he had been training with Harry last summer, he had become a more than passable player. Although he never stopped to complain about the tenacious trainings schedule, Ron was always the first on the Quidditch field and the last one to leave it again.

Harry looked out for Malfoy and spotted him somewhere above him in the air, scanning the playing field for the snitch with narrowed eyes. Harry also observed the field under him, but couldn't make out the small, golden - winged ball.

Suddenly Draco gasped out loud and a silvery-green flash shot passed Harry, knocking against him sharply in the process. Harry lost his equilibrium and needed a good moment to bring the buckling broom back under control. Malfoy had banged into him intentionally, and not for the first time today. The blond Slytherin dove towards the soil like a madman and Harry tore his Firestar around to follow. Malfoy must have sighted the Snitch and Harry would be dammed if he'd simply to lean back and let the other team have the victory.

Soon, they both raced, side by side along the lower tribune. Harry too, had now sighted the **S**nitch, which flew in a wild zigzag across the game field and the Gryffindor beg**a**n the chase in earnest now. He wanted this victory. He was a better flyer than Malfoyon the other hand, the Slytherin was ruthless and didn't shy away from fighting unfairly. Harry was distantly aware of the cheers and encouragements of the two teams and the spectators, and from experience he assumed every pair of eyes upon them. Harry did his best to melt his body against the broomstick and slowly, he won ground and even pushed past Malfoy. He evaded being hit just in time, as Malfoy yanked his own broom to the side, to knock him off his own. Harry, however, didn't let himself be distracted and let go of his broom with his right hand to reach for the winged **S**nitch, which flew just in front of him now.

Without losing any speed, he leaned forwards and already were his fingers touching the fluttering wings, when an enormous pain cursed through his scar like a flash of lightning.

Harry scarcely noticed that he lost control of the broom before his body already hit solid ground in an explosion of pain and everything turned black around him.

He found himself in a clearing, directly beside a group of euphemistic people, their faces hidden by masks.

Harry instinctively cringed back, but the Death Eaters did not seem to notice him at all. This fact and the stinging pain of his scar told Harry that he wasn't really here at all and only had a vision again.

Now he also noticed a whimpering noise just before him and he saw a trembling, sobbing Pettigrew, who writhed on the leaf-covered ground, a trace of saliva dripping from the corners of his mouth. The threatening shape of Voldemort towered over him, his wand pointed at the smaller man.

The Dark Lord appeared to be quite furious. His lips were pulled back menacingly and his inhumane red eyes seemed to glow in his wrath.

Voldemort lifted the curse, but Pettigrew remained on the ground, whimpering softly. The Dark Wizard ignored him and addressed the other Death Eaters. "Does anybody _else _have such great news for me?The Dementors have been important for me, just where they were. Dumbledore, with his renewed interference, cost me the last possibility to get all my former servants out of Azkaban."

He searched the lines of his men with his eyes, but nobody spoke up. Voldemort made a sound that sounded vaguely like a growl.

**"**Malfoy!" he hissed.

One of the hooded figures separated from the rest and stepped over the body of Pettigrew without giving him as much as a sideways glance, before he kneeled down in front of Voldemort, lowering his head respectfully.

"Take off your mask and get up, Lucius," the Dark Lord ordered.

Malfoy obeyed, still maintaining a slightly submissive appearance, yet looking his master square in the eyes.

**"**I do hope that you have better news for me, Lucius? How is your little project proceeding?"

**"**Everything goes according to plan, Master. The second stage has successfully been reached. He is weakened enough to be sensitive for manipulations now."

Harry became curious. He didn't know what Malfoy senior spoke about but he had the distinguished feeling that it was something of importance.

**"**I will not tolerate any more failures, Malfoy," Voldemort said in a low, pressed voice. **"**I want to see the traitor broken and pleading at my feet. I will not tolerate that any of my men turn away from me and betray my trust. Severus is mine, with body and soul and I want him to realize that. Only then will he get the mercy of death."

Harry inhaled sharply. Severus? Voldemort couldn't mean Severus Snape Snape was dead. Harry had seen it himself. But then again was Severus not a very common name.…

**"**My Lord. It will be as you wish. But to break him is not easy and needs time. He knows the ways and purposes of torture much too well. He put it into his head to die with his will intact, and you can say about him what you want, but he is stubborn. It needs quite some convincing measures to break a man such as him. But I have until now gotten every one at my feet and I know how Severus Snape thinks and how I can reach him. I will not disappoint you."

Harry gasped horrified. Malfoy had said Severus Snape.

Snape was alive.

An immense relieve overcame him. At the moment it wasn't important how Snape could have survived a slit throat or that he was apparently being tortured. He was not dead, which meant that there was still a chance to save the potions master and wash himself from his terrible guilt.

Voldemort's face twisted into a malicious smirk. **"**I have somehow the impression that you enjoy your task more than just a little, Lucius."

The silver-blond man only smirked in answer.

Before Harry had a chance to grimace in disgust and shock, the scene disappeared again in the dark.

When he opened his eyes once more, his whole body and especially his left arm throbbing dully, he found the white ceiling of the hospital wing in his line of vision and a very worried Headmaster who was looking down at him.

T.B.C.

Thanks to my Betareader Slytherin's silver snake and SadistraJ


	37. shattered hopes

Chapter 36

_Shattered hopes:_

"Headmaster? What happened?" asked Harry confusedly, until what he just had witnessed fully registered in his fog-filled brain. "SNAPE!"

"Stay down, Harry," Dumbledore said soothingly, when Harry tried to sit up. "You have had a nasty fall."

"Fall?" Harry asked, still a bit reality-alienated by the vision.

"Oh, that," he answered absentmindedly, his memory not yet completely processing all that happened. "Professor Dumbledore, I had a vision," he pressed on.

Dumbledore nodded slowly. "So I already expected, the way you fell off the broom. Unfortunately for you, Draco has caught the Snitch and the Slyth...?

"Headmaster!" Harry interrupted Dumbledore's cheerful-sounding narration. "I saw Voldemort."

A shadow fell over the old wizard's face, but he kept on smiling, which, just like the unencumbered words about Quiddich, was probably only meant to reassure Harry. But he was not in the mood to be placated at all right now. "Voldemort first put Pettigrew under Crucio, since he brought bad news. Something about the dementors not being in Azkaban anymore, and then he called Lucius forth."

Dumbledore nodded and waited patiently for Harry to continue.

"Headmaster. Snape is alive."

The patient smile on the face of the old wizard vanished at once and he paled within seconds. "What?"

Harry did not have time to enjoy seeing the headmaster shocked once in his life. He only felt the urge to do something as fast as possible to right all that had gone wrong. "Snape lives. They talked about it. Lucius has the order to break his will, before they kill him."

Dumbledore let himself fall heavily on a wooden chair beside Harry's bed, and this time, didn't hinder Harry from propping his body up on his elbows.

Dumbledore had his eyes closed and seemed very strained. "Severus lives. Thank Merlin. We can still save him."

He looked at Harry. "Did they say where Professor Snape is being held?"

Harry considered briefly and sorted through the memories again, so that he wouldn't miss anything, but then shook his head in the negative. "No, Sir. Malfoy only said that Snape was weakened enough for them to influence him."

Dumbledore nodded sadly. "Yes, Severus will not make it easy for them and I fear for him, knowing what it would take to break him. I doubt that they'll succeed, but still…. Where were they in your vision? Was there a reference point to where we could possibly begin the search?"

Again Harry shook his head. " They were in a common looking forest. What will we do now, Headmaster?"

Dumbledore rose and stroked his beard thoughtfully. "You said that the last vision was in a large hall? We must try to find out, where this room is. And I have also put some members of the order on Voldemort's tail. Perhaps they will find something..."

He made another thoughtful pause, his glance lost somewhere in air before him. "We just cannot do a thing, as long as we don't know where he is being kept imprisoned. And even if we did know, it would be difficult. We are too close..."

Harry listened to Dumbledores preoccupied monologue. He had actually expected that Dumbledore would immediately draw an ingenious plan from his hat, but to see the old wizard as helpless was more than disillusioning and extinguished Harry's relief like a storm did a candle. It couldn't be _that_ difficult to free Snape, now that they knew him to still be alive.

"Harry, I will instantly contact some members of the Order of the Phoenix. You will have to stay here for a moment longer, I'm afraid. Your arm has suffered a complicated fracture and you took a nasty bump on your head. Madame Pomfrey wants to keep you under observation for a few more hours."

Harry nodded disgruntled. He didn't like to spend any minute longer than was necessary in the boring, nothing-to-do-hospital wing but he did see the logic behind Dumbledore's words.

Dumbledore smiled again. "Keep smiling, Harry. We will find a way. Severus is still alive and that is all that's important at the moment. In the meantime; I know two friends of yours are standing just outside this room, waiting until they are allowed to see you."

Harry answered the smile, hesitating.

"We are not leaving Severus alone out there," Dumbledore said with determination, and Harry again was not sure if the words were directed at him, or the Headmaster himself.

Severus woke up, sitting on a hard chair. He wanted to rub his pounding temples, but something cut into the skin of his forearms and kept his arms immobile. With much more effort that it should have taken, he pried his heavy eyelids open and looked at his arms, which were bound to the armrests of the chair with a silvery chain. He blinked a few times and groaned, as a wave of pain washed over him. His head throbbed and every one of his muscles hurt.

He tilted his head back and found himself to be back in the larger darkened room, in which he had already been brought once. This time, however, he could make out more of it. The walls were of dark stone, the ceiling arching high above him and in an enormous fireplace at the far-off end burned a flickering fire, which filled the room with a crushing heat.

"Nice of you to be joining us again, Severus."

He looked up at Malfoy, who stood before him, with Goyle at his side.

Severus let his head fall down upon his chest again. He wasn't yet ready for more torture. He only wanted to be left in peace. Why couldn't they just kill him and be done with it? He was so tired to put up with it all.

"You shouldn't have tried to escape, Snape," said Malfoy.

Snape didn't answer. What could he say anyway? Of course, they would be punishing him now. But this, they would do one way or another. Had he not tried to escape then they would simply have found another reason.

A hand seized his chin and brought his head up again. "We have a gift for you, Severus."

Malfoy waved at Goyle, not interrupting eye contact with Severus. Goyle walked to the rear part of the room and disappeared from Severus' line of sight. Malfoy smiled and held Severus' head, until Goyle returned, half carrying, half dragging a wide, knee-high tank with him, which he deposited before Severus' feet. Only then did Malfoy release Severus, but the Potions Master's eyes remained on the red-hot coals in the tank.

"Get hold of his legs," Malfoy instructed and Severus rapidly understood what they planned. All his instincts screamed for escape, but he knew it was senseless. Still, he tensed and flinched away, as Goyle bend down in front of him, took hold of his knees and lifted his feet off the ground. Malfoy pushed the tank closer, until the heat from it hit Severus like a bodily blow. His ankles were both gripped and lifted even further by a meaty hand before they were dropped and the arm around his knees pushed the legs down again, until millions of hot needles stung into his feet. Severus jolted back and cried up. The burning intensified and moved from his soles up over its feet and the seam of his trousers, robbing any clear thought from him. The smell of burnt flesh rose nauseating up to him, before his legs were pulled up once again and set on the soil besides the tank. Severus' stomach revolted and he started to dry-heave violently. His feet hurt like hell and he knew that they were badly burned without even looking at them.

"Now you cannot run away any longer," Malfoy said somewhere in the spinning reality before him. "But we still must do something against the fact that you may again slip out of your handcuffs. Perhaps we have to attach them differently?"

Something inside of Severus – pain, fear and hatred made him look up. "You will pay for this; Albus will destroy you. He will avenge me."

"And why should he want to do that?"

"He is my friend. He will make you pay for everything that you do to me." Severus had to hold onto the thought that Albus would avenge him. That Malfoy would be punished. He had no strength left to endure more torture, but unfortunately he had no choice. He couldn't stop them from doing just that. All he could still do was to hang onto the things that mattered to him; letting those thoughts make him endure the pain somehow.

"Albus? Your friend?" Malfoy laughed sardonically. "I believe you dwell in some illusions here. You think Dumbledore was always friendly to you? He is friendly with everyone. He is not your friend. You are only one of many who he knows. One among thousands of children, whom he had gotten to know in school. Dumbledore helps everyone who comes to him. He is a sentimental fool after all, but he is not a friend for that matter. When he sees the need, he helps if necessary and then forgets again. You don't even know what a friend is. You also thought that I was your friend, and now look at what I'm doing to you. I am enjoying this here, Severus. Do you think that a friend would enjoy torturing you? And I always was by far your closest and most trusted comrade. Now, just think about what you must mean to all the others who know you? They don't truly care a bit about you at all."

Malfoy raised his wand and murmured: "Pugio Lux."

The point of his wand exploded in a small flashing ball of shining golden-red. Malfoy seized Snape's wrist and held it. The glowing wand end descended towards Severus ' hand and as it touched it, a dazzling, burning pain, a thousand times worse than the peeling off of his nails, shot from the hand up Severus' arm. He cried out again and only when the agony turned into a constant burning pain did he manage to stop his scream and take a shuddering breath.

Against his will, his eyes travelled to his trembling hand where in the centre now gaped a round, large hole, through which shredded edges he could make out the burned sinews, torched bones and charred muscles. Again, the smell of burned flesh rose up to him and again he choked on it. Dizziness filled his head and he felt terribly ill. Slowly his view began to cloud over and he gratefully let himself slip into the hovering unconsciousness.

"Enervate!"

Brutally, he was brought back again. Back into a stinking cell, back to the maddening, burning pain from his feet and hand and back to Lucius' voice, which continued to speak unwavering and casually, as if he were discussing the weather with him.

"Potter and his gang have already proven it to you back then. Everyone laughed at you, whenever you became victim to another prank. They pointed their fingers at you, and laughed about the deplorable loser you were, isn't that right, Snivellus? But when you tried to seek revenge, which was mostly just pathetic anyway, the four were much better in their pranks then you were, then everybody got furious at the greasy git. Because everyone thought you were evil you seemed only coming to you what you'd deserved. But not only that; Potter and Black were popular, good in Quidditch, got the girls and were better in class. I well remember that. Didn't Black even beat your score in potions at one point?

"No, this world will not be grateful, when you're gone, it will not even notice it. You are nothing and less important then the dirt in Hagrid's garden."

Severus tried to tune out the voice, yet he knew that Malfoy was right. Why did he resist his words in such a way? Lucius did not exaggerate. He had always been degraded and used as a class clown. And if, on rare occasions, someone had gone through the trouble to defend him, it had been more out of dislike for Potter, then for Severus. In all his years in Hogwarts, Lucius had been the only one who had ever paid attention to him. Lucius, who had no problems at all now to torture him and send him through hell. Towards Malfoy, he had let his wall of bitterness and partitioning fall and what had it gotten him? He should never have trusted him. Malfoy was his friend just as little as Potter and his gang had been. Something like friendship did not exist and each attempt to prove the opposite only ended in pain.

Lucius bent down to him, until Severus could feel the other Death Eater's breath on his cheek, before he spoke. "If you thought that I am your friend while I only used you, what makes you so sure that Dumbledore is your friend? Would a true friend, above all such a powerful wizard as Dumbledore, not already have found, or at least have searched for you?"

Severus eyes burned, but the tears were not coming forth. He told himself that the mission had always brought the risk of imprisonment or death and that he had himself told Dumbledore not to look for him in such a case. Yet for the moment he wished that Dumbledore had not listened to him. That at least one single person would remember him, that someone worried about what happened to him and didn't only mourn the lost chance and then moved on. The plan had failed altogether and so Dumbledore could look for him, didn't he? He was so powerful and seemed to always have a plan or an answer to everything. Why not now?

_Because he doesn't care_, answered a traitorous voice in the back of his head. Because he did not mean more to anybody than the reason for a party, that his death gave. As soon as he was out of sight, he was forgotten.

"I heard that they have found a new potions master. Crabbe writes only good things about him and Draco as well only talks about him with the highest respect. He wrote to me that they had never had such a good head of house and that the man is a genius in the field of potions. He is always there for them and also defends them successfully against Dumbledore. Draco says that this year they have good chances to win the house cup."

Severus closed his eyes and tried to tell himself that Malfoy only invented all of this, in order to hurt him, but it was hard. What if it was true? He had no possibility to know, whether all Malfoy said was true. But it would hardly be difficult to find a teacher with whom it was easier to get along with than him. The other teachers too, were probably glad that the bitter and insufferable potions master had been replaced.

"You don't believe me?" Again Lucius' soft voice directly in front of his face. A solitary finger brushed his cheek light as a feather and Severus pulled back instinctively. "If that is the case, then why are you crying?"

Severus' eyes shot wide open. He had not even realized the tear, which in the end had managed to free itself and run down his cheek, where Malfoy now gently wiped it away.

"You know that I am right, don't you?" the Death Eater whispered with a triumphing smile. Then he took a step back and raised his wand once more.

"Pugio Lux!"

The sharp, reddish-golden light spot again exploded into existence at the end of the wand and Severus tried instinctively to withdraw his, still to some extent undamaged, other hand. The chains, however, gave him only freeway to move a few millimetres and Lucius ' hand again took hold of his wrist and pressed its forearm against the armrest, effectively restricting this little possibility of movement too. Severus' hand clawed into a fist, as he in vainly fought against Malfoy's hold.

"It won't do you any good to resist, Severus. Haven't you understood that by now? Goyle?"

The massive Death Eater stepped beside Malfoy and reached for Severus' hand, whose strength was by far not great enough, particularly in his current condition, that he could do anything against Goyle, as the big man forcefully pulled his fingers apart, until the hand lay flat on the armrest. Immobile and without any possibility to evade the lowering wand-tip, Severus only stared at it, as if he could thereby turn the inevitable away.

The closer the wand came to his skin, the greater was the heat emanating from it, until it finally made contact with the skin and with a small cloud of smoke and a sickening hiss bore it's burning destruction into the flesh. Again, Severus arched in his chair and screamed. The agony shot up his arm, overruling the one of his other hand, before his sight exploded and everything turned black.

T.B.C.

Betaed Slytherin's silver snake and Sadistra


	38. blood and innocence

Okay people. These chapters here are extremely violent and I had trouble writing them myself. Yet, like I said before, I have read up to torture and I follow a scheme here. If you can't handle goriness on children, please skip the lower part of this chapter. I myself have four small kiddies and I sometimes think to myself, that I really went over the boarder there. Thankfully they're only fictive charas, so I can stand it. But you all have been warned, so don't yell at me afterwards.

Chapter 37

_Blood and Innocence: _

Dumbledore found Remus and Sirius in his rooms with a game of chess, whereby Sirius was busying himself to poke his bishop absent-mindedly, while Lupin regarded the field with concentration. The headmaster had to smile at this. He had never imagined Sirius Black to be a chess playing type, but the former marauder must be bored to death, now that he was locked up in those rooms for such a long time. Even now, after Dumbledore had magically enlarged them and had created a gymnastics room for him to do some physical work in, Sirius had even begun to read out of pure boredom. Nevertheless, these restrictions were far better than the prospect on the future that Dobby had told them about and Sirius had, as well as Severus, consented to do everything possible to alter that.

Thoughts of the potions master stirred a controversial feeling in Dumbledore. Severus had become a good friend, as far as the young wizard allowed friendship at all, and Dumbledore felt responsible for the man, who had never really had the chance of a good life - partially also by his fault. Severus' death in Harry's vision had deeply shaken Albus. But somehow, knowing that Severus would have preferred it that way, made him grateful that his young friend had not had to suffer much, prior to his death. But now, knowing that it hadn't happened that way and that Severus was being tortured, a selfish feeling of relief rose in him. They still had a chance to save him and he may not have to process another failure towards the man.

"And? Who is winning?" he asked.

Sirius jumped off his chair, the game immediately forgotten.

"How is Harry?"

Dumbledore smiled courteously and made a reassuring gesture with his hand. "Harry is all right. His arm was broken, but Poppy should dismiss him in a few hours."

A big weight seemed to be lifted from Sirius' shoulder and he took a relieved breath. "Merlin thanks. But what happened down there on the Quidditch pitch?"

"He had another vision, right?" Remus asked.

Dumbledore nodded.

"Voldemort?"

Dumbledore nodded again.

Sirius swore under his breath. "Doesn't that boy ever get any peace," he exclaimed loudly.

"I'm afraid, that will only happen, when Voldemort is defeated once and for all, " answered Dumbledore sadly. "But for the moment we have another problem. Harry saw Voldemort speaking to Lucius Malfoy." Dumbledore inhaled deeply. "Severus is alive but he is being tortured."

As if in slow motion, Remus too got out of his chair now. "But Harry has seen...?"

Dumbledore stroked his beard thoughtfully. "Voldemort is depraved and powerful enough to bring someone to the edge of death in a most brutal way, and still not to let him die."

"So, that slippery snake has managed to pull himself out of the loop once again."

"Sirius!" Remus called out warningly.

Dumbledore briefly closed his eyes and sighed. The bitterness and dislike that prevailed between Sirius and Severus was deeply rooted and the longer that lasted, the less Albus believed that they might ever get over this dislike. It would not help anything if he were to reprimand Sirius now for his thoughtless words. Just the same as if he would be talking to Severus, defending the Animagus. As long as the two of them could not forget their distrust and change their point of view of the other, there would never be more than forced tolerance for one another.

"Do we know where he is being held?" Remus asked.

"Regrettably not. I will ask the other members of the Order if they can figure out the hiding place in which he could be imprisoned. We already found some secret places of Voldemort's and assume some more, which we must work on. I'm afraid that for the moment this is the only possibility which we have."

Waking up was getting harder and more painful every time and that Severus would have preferably have stayed under the dull blanked of not knowing and not feeling, yet he was inexorably driven back to the surface of consciousness. Immediately, he noticed the burning feeling, where actually his hands, feet and back should be located.

Finally he found himself on his side, lying on the ground of his cell once more. The rough soil dug painfully into his skin and his mutilated hands were just in front of his eyes, making the chains and the refastened manacles clear for him to see. The only difference were the two rings, which were not put around his wrists anymore, but broke through his hands which Lucius had burned a hole though. Severus was a little astonished. The wounds should've actually hurt more, and why was he having the impression that a horde of small ants was crawling over his field of view?

Something in his head spoke about the lack of food, blood loss, dehydration and exhaustion, but it was too much of an expenditure to think about it, so he didn't try and gave way to the crushing exhaustion, closing his eyes again.

He had the feeling to just have fallen unconscious again, when he was pulled back into reality which such an abruptness that only 'Enervate' could cause.

He opened the eyes, as, for a short moment, all tiredness was torn of him and the pain of his neck, back, hands and feet crashed upon him. Someone whimpered and before he could completely figure out that it had been himself, the exhaustion crept back into his bones, dulling the pain once more.

His eyes fell closed once again but before he could drown completely into oblivion, he noticed that someone had taken hold of his shoulders and raised his upper body into a sitting position. Something cool touched his dry lips, and as the first drop of a liquid wetted the drained skin and flowed into his mouth he swallowed it greedily. The liquid was bitter, but that was unimportant. Severus' body cried for fluid and the small sip seemed like a mockery, when no more followed.

"Come on, Severus. You are not going to give up already? I am not finished with you yet."

Severus knew this sardonic voice that penetrated through his mind's darkness. A wave of warmth traversed his body and the lingering fuzziness left his consciousness. Malfoy had given him a strengthening-potion, so that his body and mind, too worn out under the abuse, wouldn't sink into deep unconsciousness. Enervate had no longer been enough to do that apparently and so Malfoy had alleviated some of the after-effects of the torture. Yet Severus still felt this unbelievable thirst and painful hunger cramps kept on tormenting him while the rest of his body seemed to be on fire, but his mind cleared up more with each passing second while his exhaustion was reduced noticeably. They didn't even leave him the escape of unconsciousness...

He opened his eyes and saw Malfoy, who kneeled at his side and held him upright in a sitting position. The blond Death Eater smiled and loosened his grasp. Severus remained sitting and lowered his eyes to his blemished hands with the manacles. His body had shaken off the exhaustion yet his spirit felt unbelievably tired.

"Your hands have always been very skilful, Severus," Malfoy whispered in a thoughtful intonation. "It's a shame and a waste, really, but at present they are not worth anything anymore. Even if you would escape from here, they wouldn't heal easily. Not even with magic. The dark curse that I used is much too old and powerful."

Severus felt the tears rising into his eyes again and he fought it no longer. What for? It just seemed too much a struggle to care about his hands at this point. He was of no use anyway now. Already forgotten from the world so why should he still care?"

"Don't let it get to you, Severus. Are you thirsty?"

Malfoy's voice was very sociable once more and Severus bit his lower lip until he tasted blood, when a small residual of pride, which had been pushed somewhere into the back of his head, prevented him to pleadingly nod. Yes, he was thirsty. Incredibly thirsty, even more now after the few drops of the potion had reminded him of the liquid which his body demanded. Now, he once again remembered how it felt to have his swollen tongue and desiccated mouth moistened.

Malfoy sighed, as if an inconvenient assumption of him would have been confirmed. "Why are you still fighting me? You're only making it harder on all of us."

Again, he sighed, stood up and walked to the door. Severus suppressed the nearly over-powerful urge to call Lucius back and plead for some water. To apologize for his silence and stubbornness. Everything, just to get something to drink, to hear the friendly words again and not the angry threats. For just a bit of compassion, he was nearly ready to sell his soul and what little of his brain realized that felt repulsed by it.

But Malfoy was gone for only a few minutes, before he came back. Yet, this time he was not alone. Severus looked up again, trying hard to banish the pleading expression from his face. Nott had stepped into the cell together with Lucius herding four scared children in, before them.

Snape's eyes widened in a bad presentiment, when he saw the three girls and one boy enter. One of the girls was about eight, but the other three kids were hardly older than four, whereas the smallest of them clasped a brown teddy, one eye hanging by a black thread out of the stuffed animal's snouted face, tightly to her chest.

Lucius again walked over to Severus and kneeled down before him. "I saw those kids this morning in a muggle play-yard and thought that I could bring them along as a gift for you. For you alone, old friend. Don't you want to thank me?"

Severus stared in disbelief at Malfoy. His mouth moved and he swallowed, but couldn't get a sound passed his lips.

Malfoy only smiled, rose again and went to the children, where he kneeled likewise and regarded them affably. Still, they retreated as far against the wall, as they could. The older girl pressed the small one with the bear close and protectively against her own body.

"You don't need to fear me," Malfoy said with a bloody persuasive regret. "I don't want to hurt you. But like I have told you already…." Malfoy indicated in Severus' direction, without leaving the children from the eyes. "He is a very bad demon and I cannot not resist him. Look at him. He hates children."

One of the girls, one with wild red curls began to cry violently and Malfoy pulled her into a gentle embrace. "Shhh, little one. I would never hurt you, but the demon is thirsty."

Severus observed with horror how Malfoy got a knife out of his robes. With the girl, he turned to face his prisoner and without any hesitation he sliced the knife in a fast movement across her neck.

Blood squirted, the other children screamed and Severus gasped in shock. Malfoy, however, calmly took a small bowl that Nott handed him and held at the girl's neck, catching a quantity of the blood that still flowed from the gruesome and deadly would.

Severus could only stare in shock and shake his head in denial, as the sightless, wide open eyes of the dead child burned into his brain.

After a while, Malfoy let the small, lifeless body fall to the ground and approached Severus, holding the scarlet squirted bowl in likewise blood-smeared hands. Then he held the bowl right in front of Severus' face. "You were thirsty. Now drink!"

"No... I can't... What have you...?" Severus' eyes moved from the bowl with blood in it to the small body lying on the ground, telling himself over and over that this couldn't be happening.

"Drink!" Malfoy ordered more sharply and Severus slowly shook his head. He'd rather die of thirst, than….

Malfoy turned to Nott, who grinned broadly, pulling a knife from his robes as well. He seized the arm of the older girl and jerked her away from the clasps of the smaller, still crying child. Without any fuss, he cut her throat too and let her fall to the ground.

"Debby!" the small girl yelled. Her teddy fell from forceless fingers and rolled over the stone ground as she bolted forward only to be intercepted by Nott, who held the struggling and crying child against his legs, holding the knife threateningly against her neck.

"Drink!" Malfoy ordered again and Severus reached with trembling hands for the bowl. If he refused then this child would die too. By his fault. They were here only because of him. They could still be playing somewhere, were it not for him and his struggle of will with Malfoy. He wanted to grasp the bowl, but his fingers didn't obey him. The wound made the use of his hands impossible, but he was certain that the fingers would not have obeyed him otherwise, as he was still under the shock. Malfoy helped him and led the bowl to his lips, while Severus did everything to it keep the reigning abhorrence, rage and fear under control.

As he swallowed the first mouthful of the blood he had to fight the urge not to instantly throw it up again. Malfoy wouldn't take that, and after the second swig, as he unwillingly started chucking up and tried not to choke, the blond Death Eater pointed his wand from Severus' throat down to his stomach and mumbled a curse in order to suppress the chuck-up reflex. Then he let his prisoner empty the bowl. Severus felt sick as hell again. The blood was still warm, had a metallic taste and he'd rather die, than to be forced into this.

Then it was over and the bowl disappeared from his lips.

Immediately, Severus sank to the ground with a whimper, pulling his legs close to his body, while he tried to ignore the metallic taste in his mouth. He felt sick and felt the need to retch but Lucius' curse prevented him from doing so.

Nott released the girl, who withdrew immediately into the corner with the boy, both sobbing and huddling closely together. Malfoy and Nott didn't even glance their way as they lifted the bodies of the two dead children, carried them out of the cell and closed the door behind themselves.

Severus listened to the sound of distress of the last two children and too began to cry soundlessly himself. If only he could be dead...

T.B.C.

Thanks to my wonderful Betas Slytherin's silver snake and Sadistra. Special Thanks to my good old friend Niara who helped me to translate this one paragraph that just wouldn't cooperate :-P

And of course a huge thank you to all those wonderful reviewers out there too.


	39. The deception in the angel's smile

Chapter 38

_The deception in the angel's smile:_

Some time ago, Severus had prided himself to possess an excellent inner clock upon which he could even wake up on time. Well, that clock had definitely lost its reliability in the meantime. He couldn't even tell if it was night or day now. More often than not, he even found himself wondering who he was and why he was even here. His memories sported bigger and bigger holes, so that it took quite some effort to remember that there had once been a life outside of this hell. Somewhere in an old school, there had once been a life without constant pain.

The two remaining children had been crying for a long time, until they had fallen asleep from exhaustion. Later, they had tried to comfort one another, over and over pleading with him not to hurt them.

Severus didn't know what Malfoy had told them and if he had, perhaps, even used some kind of mind-altering potion to convince them of the things he had said. The man had completely abused the naivety and the belief of such young people, that everything good is beautiful and everything vile must therefore be ugly. That was probably also the reason why the bigger girl had been killed. The older a child got, the more likely it would recognize the true circumstances. The small ones didn't realize yet that he was in no better position than them. They had no understanding of torture. For them, there was only black – the colour of evil - and white – the complete opposite. Lucius had given them a good story, as for why Severus was bleeding and chained to the wall. He heard them whisper. They saw a beautiful angel in Lucius. An angel who wanted to help and protect them.

In Severus, they saw nothing but an ugly demon that controlled everything and anyone around him and the only reason why he didn't try to get all the children on this world was because he was being locked up. Severus had attempted to tell them the truth, that he was not the demon Malfoy told them about. He tried to tell them that Malfoy was the true demon here but apparently, his story was less believable and his words less sensitive than Lucius'. Not that this would really have surprised him. He just couldn't deal well with children, never had. How was he supposed to, anyway? It was not as if he'd learned any of that when he had been a child himself. In the end, he had given up trying to talk to the two children and had done his best to fall into a reverie. Still, their every comment about the children-murdering demon and the blond, beautiful angel who would lead the murdered Sarah and Debby to paradise, hurt.

They were left alone for quite a while this time and Severus fell into a restless sleep as the strengthening quality of the potion slowly faded again.

After a while, the children started to cry again, out of hunger this time. Severus had long since passed the simple stage of hunger and his stomach was plagued by painful cramps most of the time. The blood hadn't helped quench hunger nor thirst, but Severus knew that it had held him alive, which in return sickened him even more. He didn't know what to think anymore. On one side, he was angry and sad that the children saw the monster in him but not in Lucius. Thinking of the blood he had drunk made him feel guilty, knowing that he was exactly what they saw. At the same time, the constant sobbing and pleading scraped on his nerves and he wished them to be gone, which of course, brought back his feelings of guilt, since it wasn't their fault to be here, any more than it was his own.

"Hey, wake up, Snape."

The insistent nudge against his shoulder, and the even more insistent voice, pushed Severus' conscience slowly back towards reality, even if everything seemed kind of muffled. The voice above him sounded muted, as if from a great distance and he'd like to simply tune it out and go back to sleep. But something; a strange, urgent feeling of fearful anticipation told him to wake up, or else something terrible would happen. His body reacted by a violent trembling and his heart begun to beat faster and stronger, but his brain was currently unable to make the connection as to why that happened.

"Nott, give him the potion, or he kicks the bucket before we are finished with him. I'll take care of the children in the mean time." Another, almost whispering voice and the words reinforced the urging feeling in Severus, without him being able to tell why.

Somebody grabbed him painfully by his hair and pulled his head off the ground. Something hard and cool was pressed against his lips and a few drops wetted his tongue and mouth.

In a flash, a picture of a bowl filled with blood shot through Severus and an overwhelming horror and disgust washed over him. He coughed, wanting to spit the fluid out of his mouth but a hand grabbed his chin and pressed his mouth shut, while another pinched his nose closed. For a second he feared to suffocate and swallowed instinctively.

Just then, the hands ceased their hold on him and his head was again falling back to the ground. He hardly felt the painful impact, still occupied in drawing enough air into his lungs, but slowly the fog in his brain started to lighten, the memories came rushing back as the draught cleared his mind. He groaned loudly. His body couldn't hold on much longer and it was uniquely the potions that still held him conscious now. The potions master within him started instinctively to analyse the taste of the liquid, but the Slytherin part in him told him that it would hardly matter anymore to know what kind of potion it was. It was probably a simple strengthening draught, which would kick-start his metabolism and lessen the life-threatening damage of malnourishment and dehydration enough to stop him dying from it.

Like last time, it would last for a day or two, buying him time only to leave his body back in worse shape as it had been before. He blinked and saw Lucius approach him, holding the little frightened boy by his hand. The boy clung tightly to the Death Eater's robe and Lucius petted his head soothingly. The little one was blond and had huge, grey eyes and Severus absentmindedly thought that he had a distant resemblance to Draco. Alone because of this, Lucius should be unable to harm him, something in Severus protested.

He didn't trust that protest.

There was movement besides him and he looked up to see Nott towering over him. "Get up!" he ordered.

Severus suppressed a sneer. How did that idiot think him to do that? Severus' feet and hands were useless and he would never in life be able to stand up.

"Sit up, Severus," Lucius added a bit friendlier. Still he gave his words reinforcement, by pulling the little boy even closer to himself. Severus recognized the warning and fought himself painfully into a sitting position, which proved to be quite difficult without the use of his feet and hands. But he somehow managed and stayed on his knees, breathing hard, his shoulders slump.

"You are very brave, Frankie," he heard Lucius speak and looked up. The blond Death Eater had taken a kneeing position before the boy, holding him by his shoulders and looking straight into his eyes. "You will be a great hero, when you have conquered the demon once and for all."

Severus narrowed his eyes. What devilish thing did Malfoy plan now? He didn't have to wait for long, and his question was answered. Lucius pulled forth a black, spiked dogs collar, complete with an attached leach and held it up to the boy.

"He can't hurt you, Frankie, I have him under control for now, but only a child can put the magic collar around his neck."

Merlin. What was this about? Lucius should know that he would not harm the kid. So what was the use of this stupid game?

The kid was obviously terrified as he took the collar from Malfoy with trembling hands. Malfoy turned him towards Severus and gave him a gentle nudge. The blonde boy took a tentative step, seeing only the monster of which Malfoy told him about in Severus.

Severus felt a flicker of anger and embarrassment, knowing that he would be getting this degrading thing put around his neck and his mouth formed an angry sneer. The boy stopped at once and looked insecurely back to Malfoy.

"He cannot attack you, my boy. You can do it," Lucius encouraged and Severus glared at the man for a moment. When the kid took another step, however, Severus' gaze was pulled upon him and he did his best to chase his anger from his face. "I will not hurt you, boy. I have never ever killed a child." But as soon as the words left his mouth, he knew that it was a lie. He had killed a child before. The unborn life in Molly McGregor had been extinct the minute he had killed the mother.

"Don't let him confuse you, Frankie," said Malfoy with a smile. "The demon tries to deceive you. You do remember what he forced me to do to Debby and Sarah, don't you?"

The boy nodded, clearly believing Malfoy's words more than Severus'. It was useless. Malfoy had the children convinced to such a point that they would believe everything he told them. Stupid, naïve children….

Since he couldn't reach the boy with words, Severus stayed completely immobile and banished every emotion from his eyes, as the kid took one last step forwards and started to put the collar around his neck, closing the clasp with shaking hands.

Severus suppressed his instinct to jerk away, as the heavy leather touched his skin, but he could not suppress the hot feeling of loathing and humiliation, which was rising in him. Like a bloody mutt.

Black would certainly love this here, he thought fleetingly and at the thought of his arch-rival's theoretical satisfaction, an angry, deep sound formed in his throat and came over his lips. The boy recoiled and bolted backwards, into Malfoy's open arms, letting himself be pulled into a soothing embrace by the Death Eater who held his satisfied eyes unwavering on Snape.

"You did good, my boy. The demon is now trapped like a rabid dog. He will never get out of here anymore."

Malfoy walked over to him, the boy still clutched closely to him, and picked the loose end of the leash from the ground. "Well then, dog. Bow down at my feet. Your face in the dirt, now!"

What did the man expect from him? Never would Severus Snape sink so low as to humiliate himself this way. He looked at Malfoy a bit perplexed, unable to comprehend everything that was happening here. His hesitation, however, was instantly answered by the blond Death Eater, as the man pulled the little boy a step away from himself, laid his arm around the kid's neck, and with a casual, fast movement and a sickening crack, broke the boy's neck.

"NO!" Severus screamed, frozen in shock. It was not fair. He had only hesitated. How could Malfoy do this? He should have warned him at least.…

Malfoy turned around to Nott, who, in the meantime had gone to stand besides the girl, who had started to cry again.

"No!" Severus shouted once more, this time more urgently. Before he even was aware of what he was doing, only out of a reflex, he bent his upper body towards the ground until his forehead touched the stony ground in front of Lucius' feet. He felt utterly humiliated, betrayed and as he saw the chubby, lifeless hand of the boy on the ground in his line of sight, the tears started to burn in his eyes again.

Someone approvingly petted his hair. "That's much better, doggie."

The back of the collar was given a forceful tug. "Look at me." This time, Severus didn't hesitate and straightened his upper body as fast and well as it was possible without the use of his hands.

Malfoy crouched down in front of him. "That wasn't so hard, now was it? As long as you obey, nothing bad will happen. You can, this way, save the children," he whispered, while Nott approached with the last child. "Will you obey me from now on?" Malfoy asked very gently.

Severus nodded. It was senseless to resist. He had no more strength left to struggle. If it would save the last child...

Again, Malfoy smiled. "Good boy. You will even get a recompense for your obedience. Are you hungry?"

Severus' head snapped up in terror and he looked from Lucius over to the child. Last time, Malfoy had asked him if he was thirsty….

However, the blond Death Eater only laughed. "No, no. Don't fret, Severus."

He called for Goyle, who instantly entered the cell. The big Death Eater's face was contorted in disgust as he was carrying a bowl – that looked suspiciously like the one that held the blood – toward the prisoner.

He placed it on the ground in front of Severus, who lowered his gaze at its content with mistrust. To his uttermost relief, there was no blood or suchlike in the bowl. He had already counted on another devilish plan Malfoy's. There was only some old bread in the bowl now, which admittedly didn't look very appetising, as it was partly covered by mould and some twenty or so twitching, white maggots had taken residence in and on the bread.

Severus somehow knew that he would have recoiled in disgust under normal circumstances, but now it didn't affect him at all. If only it wasn't blood again, then he would be happy enough. Malfoy would probably force him to eat this but to his own revulsion, he didn't care at this moment. He would probably feel disgust about it later, if ever he lived that long to worry about such unimportant things. For the moment, reason was by far outweighed by his hunger and his relief that it was simply bread instead of blood. He felt only indifference and the clamping hunger, which was more painful to feel now, at the sight of food, even if that food was spoiled.

"I want you to eat the bread."

Of course. What else, Severus thought.

But even that part of him was clouded over by a leaden apathy. The eventual disgust existed somewhere in the back of his consciousness but was too far away to be reachable.

Almost on automatic, Severus wanted to reach for the bowl, but he had moved his hands for no more than a few millimetres, before a newly flaming pain in them reminded him of their uselessness. Again, he had forgotten that. It felt as if his future and past, even if it was only a few minutes away, were packed into thick cotton wool, and he could only access it with great effort. His existence consisted on the immediate present and the most fundamental and simplest thoughts. The rest run on automatic. Only saving the child was still deeply burned into his brain.

There was some warning voice inside of his head, which tried to reach him, saying something about being without food for too long and that his stomach couldn't handle it, but it would take too much energy to make sense of it, so Severus let it be.

A bit helpless, he looked from the bowl to his hands, not knowing how to eat with them and too exhausted to think about a solution to the problem.

"You are already wearing a collar like a dog," said Malfoy. "Then eat like one too."

There was a short flicker of defiance but it disappeared in a split-second. The child had to be saved; everything else was unimportant. He leaned forwards to follow the order, when a sharp tug at the collar stopped him. Malfoy's face appeared just in front of his own. "If you don't keep the bread down, then the girl will die. If you obey, then I'll let her go unharmed," he whispered in his ear.

This time it was panic that flickered up, pulling his muffled consciousness a bit back into reality and he stared at the blond Death Eater in disbelief. Somehow, he knew that his body would not comply without the help of a potion or a hex and that Lucius was asking something impossible from him.

Malfoy rose again and Severus saw as he put an arm around the girl's shoulders. Outside her field of vision, but clear for him to see, he pulled a knife from his robe.

Everything inside of him knotted together, as he leaned forwards to obey Malfoy's orders. A crushing fear filled him and his stomach began to hurt, as soon as he swallowed the first bite. He concentrated as much as possible to relax and fought the physical reactions of his stomach but the second bite was too much and his stomach cramped in hot pain and everything that he had just swallowed, came up again. Severus' desperate attempt to fight it ended with inhaling bits of it the wrong way and nearly suffocating. He coughed instinctively and he lost the fight at last and between coughing and choking, vomited the undigested bread onto the ground. His throat and his stomach hurt like hell and felt as if he'd swallowed a burning torch and he sank to the ground with a pitiful moan, pressing his arms against his belly's cramping muscles.

Malfoy waited for the cramps to subside until they were bearable again and Severus stopped to groan loudly and lay still, tears freely flowing over its face. He had failed and now Lucius would kill the child.

Even the last one he had not been able to save.

"Open your eyes!" Malfoy instructed. Severus had not even realized that he had pressed his eyes shut, but he instinctively obeyed without realizing that Malfoy, if he killed the child anyway, had no longer any leverage over him. He was too tired and the reflex to obey without hesitating, which Malfoy had hammered into him, too great.

Malfoy still held the girl close and the kid pressed her teddy against her chest, as if it were her only hold to sanity. The only mercy in the situation was that she didn't really understand what was happening here, but she instinctively seemed to feel that something bad was about to happen and she looked at him with pleading, tear-filled eyes.

"Please, mean man, don't hurt me."

The naiveté of her words, the childlike sense that replaced the missing understanding of the situation's danger and her conviction that this danger came from him, cramped Severus' heart. He saw as Lucius lifted the knife and a tide of despair broke over him. He shook his head in denial, knowing that he couldn't prevent the murder. 'No, no, no...' his brain repeated over and over again. He knew what would happen and his whole being urged him to do something, but his body stayed paralysed.

When Malfoy brought the blade to the neck of the child and with a rapid movement cut her throat; when the blood squirted from the wound and splashed Severus with warm crimson and the teddy fell from her lifeless grasp, something broke in Severus.

It was as if his heart were shattering into one million pieces and the hopelessness, pain, exhaustion and mourning washed completely over Severus. He curled in on himself and began quietly to sob.

"Again, you have failed, Severus," Malfoy reproached. "Nott, I think we have to go find new children. Severus still hasn't learned his lesson."

Somehow, behind its suffocating feeling of hopelessness, Severus realized Malfoy's words and he shook his head desperately.

Malfoy's voice was suddenly very close again. "You don't want that?"

There was nothing more in Severus, which still held enough will to revolt against the friendly voice and again he shook his head.

A hand nearly affectionately stroked over his tear streaked cheek and Severus felt a tiny bit of comfort in the gentle contact and he longed for more, like a man stranded in a desert longed for water.

"Will you submit now?"

Severus nodded. Everything. He would do everything to escape this hopelessness, to receive only the shadow of a friendly gesture but the hand brusquely disappeared again. "You really are pathetic, Severus. Not one thing you swore to do did you accomplish. Not one single thing. You couldn't even save the children. No wonder that Dumbledore has instantly forgotten about you."

Malfoy was right. Because if he wasn't then his words couldn't possibly hurt so much. The hopelessness in Severus grew even stronger.

He heard Lucius' next words but their meaning was no longer reachable for him. "Nott, send word to our Lord. It is time."

T.B.C.

Betaed by Slytherin's silver snake and Sadistra.


	40. Shards

Chapter 39:

_Shards:_

Harry had never seen Dumbledore look so anxious like he had been the last few days. As the headmaster now sat behind his desk, Fawkes sitting on his shoulders, he seemed quite calm, but the regularity in which he shoved lemon drops into his mouth and the awkward movements with which he petted the breast feathers of the phoenix showed exactly how nervous he really was.

Well, he was not the only one who waited for Lupin's return with impatience. The werewolf had, under pretext of fetching some supplies from Hogsmeade, set out to meet some members of the Order and discuss their findings and their further procedure. Dumbledore had told Harry that he could get into contact with the different members without departing from the campus, and he knew that so far they had not found Snape. He did hope, however, that if all members met to discuss their experiences and knowledge, then perhaps they may get a lead. That one of them may remember otherwise unimportant details, which could turn crucial if put together with others' experiences. Harry did not know what exactly the Order intended, but he assumed that Dumbledore pursued a plan. Of course, he hadn't told him anything about it. He did not even exactly know what the Order really was and who belonged to it. He had figured out only that Sirius, Dumbledore and Lupin were part of it.

Now he waited, together with Ron and Hermione, in Dumbledore's office, being at least as nervous as the headmaster. After the vision he had reacted with relief that Snape was not dead and that he was not guilty of another person's death. This whole ugly mess had shown him the difference of despising someone so much to wish him dead, and to actually go on and send him to death for real. In the meantime, he would probably even have problems to seriously fight Voldemort, he imagined. But as more days passed, in which they didn't find Snape's place of imprisonment, his relief grew into a new concern that they would not find and free him fast enough... if they found him at all.

The only one in the office, who looked more bored than anxious, was Sirius. His godfather had mostly proven sensible enough to not say a thing, but Harry knew that he didn't take Snape's fate particularly to heart. Their past had to contain some quite unpleasant things if the two hated each other so much, yet Sirius hardly talked about it.

"I am certain they'll find something out or at least get some ideas," Hermione, sitting besides Harry on the couch, said, her concerned gaze on the headmaster as well.

Harry also hoped so. Not only because of his guilt, but also because of Dumbledore's obvious concern. Harry didn't understand what the old wizard saw in Snape, but it seemed that man really liked the potions master and was genuinely worried about him.

However, Sirius only let out a bored snort. "Snape hasn't even been gone for two weeks. What great thing can happen in that period of time? If he is roughened up a bit, it may finally teach him to lose his arrogance and subordinate himself a bit better, which can only do some good to his character."

Dumbledore did not say anything to that, but Harry noticed the shadow that clouded his face at the words. Somehow he also thought that Sirius' words were out of place, but his godfather surely had a reason to hate Snape in such a way. Sirius was not a bad person and no matter how much he hoped for Snape to be saved in time. He would never defend the potions master towards his godfather.

In this moment, a small crystal ball on Dumbledore's desk started to pulsate in a green light, a low beeping sound emanating from it at each lightening up. Dumbledore looked at it with a frown. It had become necessary to install some kind of early warning system that alerted Dumbledore when someone said the right password to the gargoyle. They couldn't risk Sirius being discovered now, not with all the Aurors roaming the school.

But as the pulsating crystal ball revealed the picture of the visitor on its shiny surface, Dumbledore shot up so fast from his chair; Fawkes lost his balance and flew off his shoulder, landing with frightened twilling sound on its perch, following Dumbledore's movement with surprise and curiosity.

Sirius straightened in his chair, his eyes on the headmaster as well, but when the old man didn't warn him to hide, he relaxed once more, slumping back into his chair.

The headmaster stepped around his desk and forced himself to remain at its side, his body tense. Then the door opened and Harry and his friends turned to watch a tired looking Remus Lupin enter the room.

"Remus. Have you found out anything?"

Lupin let himself fall into an empty chair beside Sirius and sighed loudly, rubbing his eyes with the palm of his hands. "No, Headmaster. Some new hiding places were found; from the descriptions Severus could supply us with in the past. Some of them were already deserted for years. The houses of the well-known Death Eaters are still supervised, but if meetings take place there, then the Death Eaters Apparate directly into the houses or enter them by secret entrances. Severus is in none of the well-known hiding places. Our people do what they can, but for the moment it does not look well. All they can do is to supervise the known Death Eaters with more care, in the hope that one of them will sooner or later lead us to him."

Dumbledore's shoulders sagged imperceptibly downward. He had probably not expected any better news, but not even a man such as Albus Dumbledore seemed to be protected of the importunate feeling of hope.

"Then we're left no choice but to wait," he murmured sadly.

There was probably not much that could really surprise Lord Voldemort, but Severus Snape had surprised him. The man had betrayed him, which was bad enough, but then he had also possessed the insolence to try manipulating him. Him, the most powerful wizard of the world. He had actually felt the strong urge to torture the traitor himself, but he did not dare for he would not have been able to restrain from killing Snape after a few minutes. That would be too simple for this bastard. Voldemort wanted to see him suffer, wanted to degrade him and his betrayal so much so that all his self esteem and pride for his doings disintegrated into nothing. And for that, Malfoy was the best person to ask.

Most of his Death Eaters followed him because they wanted power, or out of fear, or simply because they did not possess enough backbone to survive without a powerful presence to shelter and protect them, someone who took care of their problems and smoothed their way. Neither Snape nor Malfoy had ever fallen into any of these categories. Snape's soul had been so scarred, himself a complete emotional cripple, that he had been easy to manipulate. Malfoy on the other hand was loyal to him simply because he was immoral and arrogant. His fortune would have helped him to gain enough power without becoming a Death Eater, but Malfoy lived according to its own rules and he felt an even more perverse pleasure in causing pain than his master did.

Voldemort was convinced that, if the magic of the man were as strong as his own, he would immediately backstab him to become the next Dark Lord. He may perhaps even try something like this one day, and so, although Voldemort respected Lucius probably more than any other of his Death Eaters, he also was always on guard concerning the man. Lucius Malfoy was depraved, ambitioned, intelligent and thus dangerous.

This too, made him superior to all the other Death Eaters.

Nevertheless, the man had probably taken Snape's betrayal just as badly as Voldemort himself, but he would hold back from killing the man. He understood that this right belonged to the Dark Lord alone. His part in the whole thing was probably more satisfying for him anyway. Snape was a challenge and Voldemort had for a while even had his doubts whether he would succeed at it at all. Snape had changed a lot since his time as a teenager. He had grown stronger and more secure, but then was it difficult to judge what was really strength and what only the mask which he had created to perfection, and with which he had even managed to deceive the most powerful wizard on earth.

But once again, Malfoy had not disappointed him. It had taken longer than with most but now Nott had informed him that Snape's will was broken at last.

With a shadow of a contented smile, he entered the small cell.

Malfoy immediately stepped to the side, indicating a brief, respectful bow. Voldemort continued without paying any heed to him or the two dead children who were laying on the ground and locked his gaze upon Snape, or rather what remained of him. Voldemort had trouble recognizing his once proud potions master in the crying huddled heap on the ground before his feet. He had known that Malfoy was malicious but he was unprepared for what he saw now. Bruises covered Snape's skin. His body, formerly already on the lean side, now looked like a skeleton, over whose bones the skin had been stretched. His back was painted by criss-crossing whip marks, the wounds festering and red. On some parts, the whip had torn so deeply into the skin and muscles that he could see the white bone under it.

Snape's feet were red and black and covered with partially burnt fire blisters.

The worst, however, were his hands. They were completely destroyed. The wrists were scuffed and sported angry red welts and his nail beds were merely raw meat. A large hole gaped in each of his palms, through which two iron manacles had been pulled. And that was only the visible damage. The fact that Snape's psyche could not be much better off than his body was proven by his quiet sobbing and the enclosed, foetal position of his body.

The dog collar around his neck and the two bodies of the children, in whose blood Snape partially lay, gave Voldemort a good idea what Malfoy must have done. If Snape had not been the wretched traitor, who had dared to try to manipulate him, Voldemort may perhaps even had enough pity with him at this point to have killed him immediately. But as it was, he felt only satisfaction at the sight.

Really, Malfoy had done a good job.

"Severuss," he hissed thoughtfully. He had actually not expected any answer, but to his surprise, Snape shuddered violently upon hearing his voice and curled even more into himself.

Malfoy now stepped to his side, wearing a proud expression, as if he were an artist and Snape's broken form a creation that had come out particularly well.

"Kneel, Severus," he instructed softly and in a friendly tone.

Voldemort did not think that there was any great awareness for his surrounding left in the potions master, so much seemed he absorbed in his bubble of despair and pain, and even if there was, then it was greatly questionably whether he could move in his physical condition and get to his feet at all. But the Dark Lord was again surprised, when the man immediately began to struggle to his knees, biting his lower lip so firmly, it bled, his face contorted in pain.

The sobbing ceased and finally the potions master was on his knees, his head and shoulders slumped.

"Look at the master," Malfoy instructed now, still very sociably. Slowly, as if he was a puppet, and Lucius' words the string, the man looked up and met Voldemort's eyes.

Looking into these black eyes, the Dark Lord instinctively searched for any sign of challenge, defiance and pride, but Severus' eyes were empty, apart of a deep despair that haunted them and which Voldemort had rarely seen in such intenisity. The kind of despair, which a mother carried when her only child had just been killed, this kind of hopelessness only existed in the eyes of humans who had nothing more to lose.

Severus Snape was completely broken.

And when this realization registered in his head, Voldemort could no longer act indifferently. He laughed. Nobody should dare to oppose him. Severus had tried and had gotten everything stuffed down his own throat. "Who is your master, Severus?" he demanded forcefully.

Severus twitched and murmured something incomprehensible while he lowered his eyes again, like a child afraid to look under the bed in fear of finding the monsters living there.

"You will look at me and answer so that I understand you! Who is your master?" Voldemort thundered.

Voldemort was really starting to enjoy this.

Snape's head snapped up again, and he searched the older wizard's eyes once more, while a violent trembling run through his body. "You are my master," he croaked more than he spoke.

Voldemort's brow arched in amazement. Severus' smooth, low voice was as disfigured as his body. Now, a slit throat and days without liquid, which Malfoy had surely taken care of, had the tendency to do that to a voice. Snape had lost everything. The only thing, which had ever been attractive on him were his hands, voice and his intelligence. Hands and voice were disfigured and the violation, which had undoubtedly been done to his mind, overshadowed any intelligent train of thought he might still have had. Severus Snape had paid for his crime and now he would die.

He pulled out his wand and pointed it at Snape. The potions master did not show any fear, only tired acceptance and perhaps a little regret. Voldemort wondered what he might grieve over. His forthcoming death? Doubtfully. Dumbledore, or his failure to have remained strong? That was more probable.

"Avada..."

A thought, which sudden shot through his head, let him hesitate and then, with a feeling of satisfaction, he smiled imperceptibly.

Of course. That would be much better...

"Magica Pudidus!"

A golden, squirting flash shot from his wand towards Snape and hit him directly between the eyes. There it grew into a bright, golden glowing, before it extended and, like a second skin, spread at first over the potions master's face, head, chest and then the remainder of his body, wrapping his whole figure into a bright radiating light. Snape's face twisted in immeasurable terror and his mouth opened for a cry, which remained stuck in his throat, until the encasing golden light exploded with a loud bang and like flakes in the wind, swirled to the ground in thousands, tiny asterisks, which, soon as they touched the stone, melted out of existence like snow on hot coils. Snape's body was held upright for a second in a frozen position, before his eyes rolled into his head and he sagged to the ground in a lifeless heap.

From the corner of his eyes, Voldemort saw Malfoy recoil a step, when the light exploded, and now, the man looked uncertainly from the unmoving man on the ground up to him.

"Is he dead, my Lord?" he asked, before he could restrain his surprise.

Naturally, Lucius would not know of this particular curse. That was one of the big differences between them both. Malfoy was interested in the Dark Arts as much as Voldemort himself, but the snobbish aristocrat wouldn't really exert himself to get hold of more knowledge. Malfoy would never get so low as to climb into old, dirty graves to search for hidden parchments, or read hundreds of uninteresting books and reports just for the chance of discovering something useful.

"This is a good question, Lucius. Well, the curse has not killed him in any case, if that's what you mean."

Lucius regarded him with a questionable frown. He was undoubtedly curious to know more, yet was careful enough not to ask.

"Lucius, call all the Death Eaters. Kill the remaining prisoners and dispose of their bodies. Severus' also, but not quite yet. I have to take care of some things first."

Again he smiled maliciously and the warming feeling, which only sweet revenge managed to give, ran through him.

"We abandon the quarry."

T.B.C.

Thanks to Slytherin's silver snake and Sadistra for betaing.


	41. Rescue?

Chapter 40:

_Rescue:_

Something was wrong. Something that scratched on his tired mind and made his stomach roll in a nausea, the origin of which his brain couldn't locate, despite his knowledge that he somehow should know the reason. Only, his brain could not catch the thought and process of the muffled information.

The feeling of queasiness and the pushing urge to escape this reason became stronger and drove him further back towards consciousness. Before Severus finally managed to give in to this urge and to pry his leaden eye lids open, he recognized with a sickening feeling what was wrong. It stunk so miserably that his internal organs seemed to knit together, but his body no longer had enough strength to follow the choking reflex that dwelled in his throat.

He was on his back, on a bumpy, hard and partly damp ground, his body bent slightly backwards, as if he were lying on a heap. A heap full of hard, pointed edges that pressed into his skin.

He laboriously forced his eyelids open and blinked a few times, already feeling the suction in the rear part of his consciousness again, which let him slide away from reality. He fought it for the moment, even if he did not know why he did. Above him, he saw a plain stone ceiling like the one in his cell, upon which a solitary torch, which must be attached on the wall outside of his field of vision, threw its hypnotising, flickering light spots.

Severus turned his head to the side, away from the torches' play of light and shadows. He needed a moment, to be able to make sense of what he saw. Not that it was something he didn't recognize, but his brain seemed to be having more and more trouble processing everything clearly. Yet his instinct let his heart skip a beat and unconscious terror and despair overwhelmed him as he found himself looking at the half decayed head of a corpse.

Against his will, Harry's eyes once more wandered to the head table. Snape seemed to have vanished from the face of earth and the longer their search proved in vain the smaller their hope was to find him still alive. Dumbledore looked tired. The dark rings under his eyes proved that his concern was robbing away his sleep. Although he was a master of maintaining a joyful-lemon-drops-eating facade, the other teachers seemed to become aware of his growing concern. In any case, McGonagall frequently bent over to engage the headmaster in a discussion, and in between stole worried glances in his direction.

Harry had been relieved at first when he found out that with Snape's possible rescue he could quench his guilt. Until then, however, it had grown into concern for the headmaster's well being and this had become an ever bigger drive to find the potions master alive.

He began to ask himself whenever it had been such a good idea to tell the headmaster about the vision at all. Before, when Dumbledore had thought Snape to be dead, he had mourned but apparently he had accepted the potions master to be another unfortunate victim of war. On the other hand, now that he knew they could still do something but he still had to remain immobile, it ate away at the old wizard's patience. Although Snape didn't mean anything to Harry on a personal level and he only craved to correct his error, he could relate to the headmaster's feelings. Doing nothing, whilst knowing that they should, was very unnerving.

Yet, the last sparks of hope to still somehow settle this whole disaster was extinct when a large eagle owl with a roll of parchment flew through one of the upper windows and landed in front of Dumbledore.

It had been pure coincidence that Harry took this moment to look at the head table but when the headmaster removed the letter from the bird, which immediately flew off again, and began to read – while his eyes first widened in terror and then closed in immense grief, Harry instinctively knew that Snape had been found.

"Do you think that in the letter…." Hermione began, looking up to Dumbledore as well, after having become attentive from Harry's strained staring to the head table.

"Look how shaken Dumbledore looks," Harry whispered sadly and with a sting in his heart, while he observed how the headmaster's hands, that held the letter, trembled noticeably. "This can only mean that they found Snape dead."

The headmaster opened his eyes again and his gaze met Harry's for one second. Harry thought that he had seen tears in Dumbledore's eyes, but he could not be sure, because the old wizard turned away again and sought McGonagall's attention by putting a hand upon hers.

The strict professor turned to him and the headmaster pushed the parchment over to her. McGonagall briefly adjusted her eyeglasses and began to read the letter. Her expression too changed at once. She paled and her jaw fell open as she stared at the parchment in her hands.

Under normal circumstances, Harry would probably have been amused by the sight of his noble and strict house teacher wearing the expression of a dead fish, but now he had the feeling as if his heart had sank down to his stomach and he watched with a terrible expectation how Dumbledore whispered something to McGonagall, who seemed to have caught herself somewhat and brought her jaw back under control before she nodded abruptly.

Dumbledore patted her hand in a kind of helpless gesture, rolled the parchment up again and rose from his chair. He moved to Remus and whispered something to the werewolf, who acknowledged that with a restrained nod, rising likewise from his chair.

Both stepped around the table and began to walk between the four long tables towards the main exit, ignoring the questioning glances of students and teachers that followed them.

Harry would have gladly known about the content of the letter, and as if he would have heard his thoughts, Dumbledore suddenly hesitated and looked his way. He said nothing, but searched his glance and nodded barely noticeably.

Harry accepted the mute invitation immediately and stood up.

"You coming too?" he asked his two friends, who too, didn't hesitated a second longer.

Together they followed the headmaster, who led them and Lupin wordless toward his office.

Once there, he called loudly Sirius' name before he sat behind his desk, waiting, until one minute later the Animagus stepped through the hidden door.

"What's the matter? Shouldn't you be in the Great Hall eating?" he asked perplexedly, walking up to his godson's side.

Harry and the others regarded the headmaster seriously. Instead of saying something, the old wizard unrolled the parchment and laid it upon his desk in a way that the other persons on the other side of the table could read it. Harry and the others curiously stepped closer and began to read the smooth written words in dark ink.

_Well, my dear Dumbledore, _

_You probably thought that you could so easily out-smart me. To let Snape spy on me was really not a very intelligent idea. At least if you only remotely cared about his well being. Our good Severus, unfortunately, has now had to pay the price for his betrayal. Since I know about your ridiculous sentimentality, I assume that you want to have him back. In my utmost benevolence I will return your potions master to you, even if I doubt that he will still be of much use to you. I would hurry in any case, if I were you. He is in the old biar-kobold's diamond quarry. The door is marked, so that you will easily find it. _

_Oh. I almost forgot. Before you use any magic on him, I would recommend that you read my message, which I left with him. _

_This round clearly goes to me. Until next time, then._

_Lord Voldemort_

For a moment it was dead quiet in the room, while everybody tried to digest what they had just read. Even Sirius seemed too stunned to be able to say something.

"Do you think that he's still alive?" Lupin broke the heavy silence at last.

Dumbledore slowly shook his head. "I do not know. Voldemort could very well give us false hope only to let us find a dead body. In any case, someone must depart immediately to make sure. Even if it is only a small chance, then we cannot let it go unused. That much we owe to Severus."

Remus nodded. "Do you know where that quarry is, Albus?"

"Yes. Before I became headmaster, every class went to take a look at the old, abandoned quarry. The students were to learn about the unique architecture of these kobolds. However, thirty years ago, part of the mine collapsed and these excursions were taken off the curriculum. Voldemort must have used the caves for himself. It is a magical building and no Muggle will ever trespass up there."

"Then you will be leaving right now?" asked Hermione.

Dumbledores eyes grew hard and he squared his shoulder, almost as if he would prepare for a difficult fight. "The Aurors called in a meeting, which should take place in an half hour. They want, as usual, the whole staff to attend."

"Why do those parasites still linger around anyway? Have they so little work or are they too thick to understand that the school is no longer endangered? They bother us for weeks, already," Sirius growled.

Remus smiled benevolently. "It's all about politics, my friend. Fudge is in his position through selections and must stay in good grace with the people. The student's parents want protection and the good will and influence of these parents are not unimportant for his re-election."

"So what are we doing then? Thirty minutes will hardly be enough to retrieve Snape and nobody can leave the school without any notice of departure," Sirius said.

"I could get him," Harry blurted out, before he could stop himself. The glare, which he received from Sirius at that, however, was a clear certification of what he held of this idea.

"That is out of question," Sirius protested.

"It's much too dangerous, Harry," Dumbledore agreed. "There could still be Death Eaters there. Let us adults take care of it."

Frustration and a good portion rage welled up in Harry. "I have brought Snape into this mess and it'll be only the right thing to get him out again," he persisted stubbornly.

"No!" Sirius stated fiercely.

"And who will go then? The teachers can't and if you wait until after the meeting, it is possibly already too late. I am the only possibility."

"This, Harry, is not completely correct," Dumbledore said in a stretched voice, while he slowly moved his gaze over to Sirius.

The Animagus paled when he understood the suggestion. "You can't be serious, Albus?"

"You are officially dead, Sirius. Nobody will notice your absence. You can leave the school unhindered, get Severus from the quarry and bring him to the Order's headquarters."

"Isn't there another way, Albus?" he groaned. "I will probably personally strangle him before I have finished rescuing him. I can already see it. To be getting a 'thank you' I can equally forget. He's rather like to yell at me for taking so long to get him as soon as I unlock the door. Don't expect me to control myself then."

Dumbledore rose and smiled at Sirius. "I trust that you can hold back long enough."

Despite his friendly words, there lay a finality in his voice, which let Sirius groan loudly, submitting to his fate. "Maybe I am lucky and he's dead already," he murmured so quietly that only Harry could hear him.

Dumbledore turned back to his desk and took a quill into his hand. He pointed his wand at it and murmured a long incantation. Then he handed the quill to Sirius.

"The portkey will bring you to the quarry. Contact me, when you have Severus."

Sirius nodded, a sour expression on his face and took the quill at its keel.

"Three...two…." Dumbledore counted down and on an impulse Harry shot forward and grabbed the other end of the quill at the same moment as Dumbledore arrived at "One," and the portkey was activated.

T.B.C.

Betaed by Slytherin's silver snake and Sadistra.


	42. unexpected complications

Chapter 41

_Unexpected complications:_

"What in the name of Merlin did you think you were doing?" Sirius yelled at his godson, as soon as they both had materialized on a stone plateau and he had overcome his first surprise.

The boy let go of his end of the quill and took a guilty step backwards, yet his eyes still carried a healthy amount of defiance.

"I had the right to come along. You cannot exclude me from this!" he answered stubbornly.

Damn it. Why did the boy have to choose this bloody moment to show that he was as fond of prohibitions as his father had been? Even if said prohibitions were only for his own good. Despite his grind, Sirius could not prevent the small swelling of pride in his heart at this thought, but he pushed this back. He would not let James ' son get away with it so easily. He had nothing against a bit of rule breaking now and then, and always thought it to be hilarious to annoy the teachers or his superiors and step all over some of their more un-fun rules, and then, preferably let someone else take the blame. That was one thing, but to risk your life for an absolutely stupid thing was something completely different.

"Do you really want to risk your life? For Snape?"

"Snape has risked his life for us too," Harry shot back.

"So what? That was his job. Nobody forced him. He knew what he was getting into."

"I know that too!"

"No, you don't know. You are still much too young and even if you tricked your way to be here now, then I will still prevent you from going into this quarry with me!" Sirius tried not to yell, but it was not simple. This sixteen-year-old would not manipulate him into something against which he had already decided.

Harry, however, only imitated his defensive attitude. "I am the same age as you were when you pulled off that stupid prank, which nearly made Remus become a murderer."

That hit home.

Sirius felt, as if its whole resistance had been drawn of him and he grimaced, as if this remark had been a physical blow. Back then, he had simply not thought about the possible consequences of this prank. He hadn't thought about what may have happened to Remus, had he truly seriously harmed Snape. All he had wanted was to get Snape off his high horse. He hadn't really seriously thought it through. At least until later, when the werewolf had learned what had happened and had looked at him with such disappointed and betrayed eyes, which Sirius would never again forget in his life. Eyes that had haunted him often in the cold and lonely nights and days in Azkaban.

"Please, Sirius," Harry continued. "I'm already having nightmares since the first vision. What I did was very stupid and unjust and this is my only chance to come clear with my conscience. Even if Snape isn't alive any longer, then I at least know that I did everything in my power."

Sirius considered this for a moment. Even if he, deep in his heart, did not really regret playing quite some jokes at Snape's expense, he still understood the way Harry was feeling. James too, had always had those occasional pangs of conscience and as it seemed, Harry had perfected the art of the self-incrimination even better than his father had done. Without doubt a gift of his mother Lily, who herself had always carried a large dislike towards any form of unfairness.

"All right," he finally gave in. "You will, however, remain behind me at all times, understood?"

Harry's face lightened up instantly and he nodded enthusiastically.

Sirius turned and strode over towards the dark hole, which gaped in the steep cliff further down. The Gryffindor did not know this quarry and this alone was enough to let a sense of nervousness settle in the pit of his stomach. This, together with the fear that some Death Eaters might still be here, made him choose to transform into his Animagus form and he, the sensitive canine nose held high, tested the air around him for traitorous smells, paying close attention as well for noises that didn't belong here. Although he could not constitute the trace of another humans' scent beside Harry's, his instincts, increased in his Animagus form, cried to him that this place was a place of death and violence, and that he had better stay away from it. His human intelligence, however, let him move forward, his body tense and his mind alert while he didn't stop to look at Harry who was walking behind him.

But they encountered nothing and no one that was trying to block their way and they were able to enter the quarry unhindered. Sirius retransformed and pulled out his wand, trusting that he could defend Harry and himself in this form more effectively.

The quarry did not look as Sirius had imagined it. The soil was even and led downward in a comfortable inclination, while every few meters, a torch threw its jerky flickering over the stone surface. After a few dozens meters the wall as well smoothed out and on both sides, heavy stone doors interrupted it at every few meters, where no side corridors -- of which there seemed to be quite a few of -- were.

The further they walked, the stickier and hotter the air became and Sirius guessed that the caves had originally been dug so deeply into the mountain that they almost reached the lava in the interior of the planet that heated the quarry, like the Biar Kobolds had the habit of doing whenever possible. Voldemort must have adapted the quarry to his needs.

Sirius moved on, trusting that the Dark Wizard, like he had announced it in his letter, would probably mark the door and therefore the way as well, if he had to follow one of the smaller corridors. So he kept on walking down the main passage, which was the only one lit anyway, until it ended at the top of a flight of steep stairs.

With a glance at Harry, who still followed him, his wand on the ready as well, he descended the steps.

There was only one single solitary torch remaining on the wall at the foot of the stairs before the corridor further down became swallowed in pitch-black shadows. Beside the torch in the wall was a single door, a skull from whose mouth a snake coiled burned into the thick wood of the door.

Voldemort's Dark Mark.

"That must be it," whispered Harry.

"Stay behind me, Harry," Sirius instructed. He did not trust Voldemort and somehow all this had been much too easy so far. It reeked of a trap.

He raised his wand a bit higher and reached for the door's handle with his free hand. With a last, encouraging breath he pushed it down, opening the door -- and immediately jumped back, his face twisted in disgust, when a most horrible stench immediately assaulted him from the room. Instinctively, he slammed the door shut again.

Harry also yielded back and choked, while his face took on an unhealthy greenish colour.

"Oh, God, what is that? Poison?" he choked, pinching his nose shut and trying as hard as he could not to vomit right there.

Sirius instantly levelled his wand at Harry's nose. "Aolere."

He repeated the same with himself and immediately the stomach-turning stench disappeared. But Sirius ' confidence in fulfilling Dumbledore's request to the old wizard's satisfaction had expired in that moment the stench had hit him. It was not poison. Sirius knew this smell. It was the stench of decay. The sweetly, nausea triggering reek, which frequently had drifted over into its cell when the guards of Azkaban had 'accidentally ' overlooked that a prisoner had died. Sirius was sure that this had happened for the mere reason to show the prisoners how much worth, even in death, they held at Azkaban. Never in life would he forget that stench.

Harry relaxed once again, as soon as his nose lost its ability to smell anything, and he looked at his godfather expectantly.

"That is no poison, Harry," Sirius reassured. "You stay here!"

He faced the door once more to open it again, but a hand on his arm stopped him.

Harry looked at him with worried eyes. "Don't tell me that you intend to enter that room. What if you're wrong and it is some poison anyway?"

Sirius shook his head. "It's not, Harry. I know this stench. But I will go in there alone. If my assumption is correct, then Snape's body will be behind this door and I must retrieve him. For Dumbledore. It is not necessary that we both are exposed to the sight."

Harry chewed on the inside his cheek nervously. He probably had an idea now, about what the stench meant and the horror and the abhorrence about the conclusions he drew were clearly written on his face.

"Go upstairs and keep your eyes open, so that we're not surprised by any eventual remaining Death Eaters, Harry. I will go get Snape's body."

Harry nodded and started wordlessly to climb up the stairs.

Sirius sighed softly. Harry was curious by nature and the Animagus did not trust him, that the boy would try to take a peek, despite his admonition. Yet, if he gave him something to do, a task to keep him occupied, then it would probably keep that curiosity in check. Sirius didn't any longer believe that there was still someone here. Voldemort wanted to give them the right message by letting them find Snape's decaying corpse. Sirius felt no real need to confront this sight either, and the thought of even transporting the body of putrid meat sent shudders up his spine. But it had to do it. For Dumbledore.

He closed his eyes for a moment to collect himself and then pushed the door handle down with determination, pulling the door open and stepping into the room.

But the sight that greeted him was much worse than anything he could have anticipated. He had thought that he would be finding Snape's dead body, but there were dozens of corpses in the small room behind the marked door. All of them thrown carelessly away in a heap, like waste. The stage of decompose of the bodies further down was long since completed and only pale bones remained of them, whereas the corpses on the top of the pile must have been dead for no longer than a day, even if the heat down here attacked the bodies quite fast.

Sirius' first impulse was to flee from this horror, as fast as he could, but he forced himself to stay. He had to find Snape. Or what was left of him by now.

The soil was slimy and dirty and Sirius did his best to not think about what he stepped on as he walked into the room. The area was illuminated by a single torch beside the door, its gloomy light letting the scene appear even more repulsive. Sirius was glad that he had disabled his sense of smell, but the sight of the dried blood, the empty eye sockets in half decayed faces and black putrefied meat and intestines, which penetrated through slit chest and abdomens, were enough to nearly offer his breakfast a return trip ticket.

But when he finally saw the corpse of a small girl with slit neck, her blue sightless eyes wide in a mute terror, burned by death onto her young face, all the horror, which he had ever witnessed in Azkaban and during the war didn't help any longer and he had to pry his eyes forcefully from her.

And then he saw him on top of all the other corpses. Or better, he saw a black foot, covered by burns and the remains of black trousers, from which the foot produced. The trousers were nothing unusual per se and many wizards wore such kind of clothing, yet Sirius knew instinctive that this leg belonged to Snape. He pulled the torch away from its holder. Holding it before himself, almost like a shield, he approached, doing his best not to pay any more attention to the other corpses and evading it carefully to touch any of them.

In the light of the torch more and more of Snape's body was revealed. The second foot, which looked just as bad as the other one, the leg clad in the pitiful remains of black and partly burned trousers, then the starved body, covered so much with dirt, dried blood and bruises that hardly another centimetre of the normal sallow skin colour was visible. Snape's eyes were closed and lay deep in the sockets and his jaw and cheekbone stood out unnaturally sharp. His cracked and blood encrusted lips were half opened, making a row of yellowish teeth visible.

"By all good gods..." Sirius breathed. What had they done to Snape? This would hit Dumbledore hard. Now he was infinitely glad that he had not let Harry come along into the room. He brushed his outer robe off his shoulder. Better to wrap Snape's body in it. He'd rather not let Harry see it, or the boy's guilt would only explode tenfold. He moved another step closer to the bodies and only then did he notice the complete destruction of Snape's left hand, which had now come into his line of vision. A deep hole gaped in its centre and the fingers were twisted into bloody claws. His eyes moved unwillingly to the other hand, which looked exactly the same, with only the difference of a rolled piece of parchment, sticking through the gap of Snape's right hand.

Again he choked the threatening nausea down, but then he remembered Voldemort's words in the letter. That must be the announced message, of which he had written. He probably should read it, Sirius thought before he exercised magic on Snape. Maybe it was a trap, which would set off something, as soon as he tried making the corpse float or the like?

Reluctantly, Sirius stepped around the pile of corpses, until he was close enough by the hand to touch it. Carefully he reached for the upper end of the parchment and grabbed it with a disgusted grimace between the fingertips of his index and thump. As he gave a tentative pull on the parchment, the hand followed the tug and was lifted several centimetres, before the parchment role slipped from the wound with an ugly noise and the hand fell back onto the mangled ribcage of another corpse, where it had laid before, and a quiet, hardly audible groan echoed from Snape.

Sirius bolted back, as if he would have been shouted at and the parchment fell from his fingers.

That noise.

It took one second, before his thoughts caught up with his subconscious realization and he was at Snape's side immediately again, moving as close as possible without touching the other corpses. With revulsion, he laid his hand upon the centre of the bony chest. There it was. Hardly noticeably, but the ribcage slowly rose and fell beneath his hand.

Snape was alive.

Sirius' eyes widened. He had seen much in his life so far. Cruelties almost too much to think about and the darkest sides in a human life, but how someone in such a condition could survive was beyond him.

He tore himself from his astonishment. Snape lived, but he looked bad off, and his condition would probably not last. The man had to be brought out of here and into medical care as fast as possible. He pointed his wand on Snape to make him float off the heap and out of this nightmare here, when he remembered the parchment.

Hurriedly, he moved back, lifted it from the ground and unrolled it.

_Hello Dumbledore,_

So, you've found him then. If you're lucky, he's even still alive. As you certainly have already assessed, Severus did spend quite a rough time as my guest. Despite this, I am confident that Poppy Pomfrey possesses enough knowledge to take sufficient care of him and to restore the main part of his anatomy. 

Unfortunately this would also considerably diminish my revenge, so I've taken the liberty to magically overload him. Any attempt to use magic on him, be it with a wand or a potion, will further overload and harm him, even kill him perhaps.

_I have left you enough freedom to transport him once with the help of a Portkey or by Apparating, but that is all that I am willing to do. He shall suffer, before he dies. The transport will probably further weaken him, and after that I'd even be careful to bring him anywhere near magical wards._

_Now I wish you much pleasure with your puzzle named Severus Snape. _

_Lord Voldemort._

T.B.C.

**_Last note from Lilith:_**Even if it makes my heart bleed, we will have to mourn a casualty in the next chapter. What we all have learned to love through all the books and fanfics will be no more. Sniff Please don't be too cruel with me because of this sacrifice for the sake of the plot of this fic.

Thanks to Slytherin's silver snake and Sadistra for the Betaing:-D


	43. After the torture

Chapter 42:

_After the torture:_

Sirius cursed under his breath. This was just bloody perfect. How pray tell, would they be able to heal Snape in his condition without the use of magic? The Animagus shrunk the parchment and packed it into his trouser pocket, then searched the pockets of his coat, which he had put over his arm and retrieved a shrunken hand mirror from one of the numerous bags and hiding places in the piece of clothing. If he indeed had to carry Snape, then he wanted at least to keep any direct skin-contact as small as possible. Afterwards, he could certainly throw away his coat – he'd never be able to get the stench and dirt out of the fabric – yet, it by far exceeded the alternative to carry Snape with his bare hands. He glanced briefly at the mirror and then stuffed it likewise into his trouser pocket. Not one minute longer than necessary did he want to stay here, and he could still contact Dumbledore once they were out of the quarry and its horrors.

He covered the unmoving potions master with the robe and spread it, and then he carefully reached for the arm closer to him, supporting Snape's shoulders with his other hand. Then he pulled the other man carefully over to him. As soon as Snape threatened to slip from the heap of corpses, however, he wrapped the material as well as possible around him, propped him into a sitting position and, with a slight crouch, heaved the dead weight of the potions master over his shoulder. He straightened and took a tentative step to adjust to the new weight, which threw his balance slightly off. Still, he was startled. He would actually have expected that a man of Snape's size would be heavier, but the Slytherin had always rather been on the lean side and the time he spent here hadn't helped that.

Snape groaned again, as his body was jerkily moved, but he didn't stir.

"You better not die on me now, Snape. You still owe me a new robe," Sirius growled, even if he didn't manage to bring any sharpness into his voice. He was still too overwhelmed by Voldemort's cruelty, which he had just witnessed here. This bastard didn't even stop at tormenting children. Sirius only hoped that Harry never again got caught in the clutches of this monster.

At least James and Lily had not been tortured before they died, he thought with a last regretting glance at the dead child. He could only hope for Snape that he had been unconscious already before he had been brought here and that he had not been aware of this place.

He left the room together with his load, carefully closing the door behind himself.

Harry already expected him anxiously at the top of the stairs and when he spotted the body, wrapped in a black outer robe, over his godfather's shoulder, his expression changed into a regretting frown.

"He's not dead, Harry," Sirius appeased, and the boy immediately relaxed.

"How is he?"

"Not well. Come, let's go outside and contact Dumbledore. Then you'll get to know everything."

Harry merely nodded and followed him, letting his eyes move frequently over to the unconscious professor, while Sirius marched back through the corridor with long strides.

Once outside, Sirius carefully let Snape slide to the ground and positioned him onto his back. He heard a surprised gasp from above when Harry saw the face of the man for the first time. Sirius also frowned in displeasure.

In the open daylight, Snape looked even worse; as if he were just as much a corpse as those other unfortunate people down there. His eyes lay deep in their sockets and lay in shadows; together with the waxen skin and the dark shadow of first signs of a beard, Snape's face looked like dead.

Indeed, Poppy would have to do hard work to earn her money this month.

"Are you certain that he's still alive? He's so still," Harry said doubtfully.

Sirius was not entirely successful to suppress a smirk. "No sarcasm and insulting comments, as soon you look at him the wrong way is indeed unusual, eh? No, he is well alive for now but I'll still be glad when I can hand him over into Poppy's care."

He fished the hand mirror from his pocket and turned it back to its normal size.

"Albus," he commanded softly into the glass of the mirror. Harry stepped close to him and saw how the expecting face of the old wizard instantly appeared on the shiny surface.

"Harry, are you alright?" he addressed the boy immediately.

"He's fine, Albus," Sirius answered the question with a reproachful glance at Harry. "The quarry was indeed deserted."

Dumbledore's eyes shadowed over at once. "And Severus? Sirius, have you found Severus?"

Sirius nodded sternly. Now, the hard part of his report would begin. "Yes. I did. Voldemort has left him back, together with some other prisoners he killed."

Dumbledore's eyes saddened when he took his conclusions.

"No, Albus," Sirius assured hastily. "He is alive but very bad off. He doesn't look good at all. He's been terribly mishandled, and on top of that, Voldemort has magically overloaded him. We can't use any magic on him without killing him ourselves."

Dumbledore seemed relieved, yet still worried and a deep thoughtful crease had appeared between his brows. "Do you know what curse has been used on him?"

"No, only that it has magically overloaded him. We can transport him once, but in a building with magical wards he'd be further endangered. I can't bring him into the headquarters, Albus and neither to Hogwarts."

Dumbledore thought about it for a moment, before looking up again. "Sirius, how is Severus? I mean, is he in immediate danger?"

Sirius again looked at the man lying on the ground. Dumbledore knew that he had experience with people in bad condition, having witnessed more than enough in Azkaban, so that he could be trusted to assess the situation best possible for a non-trained medic. "Honestly, I don't know. He looks bad. He is probably suffering from acute dehydration and malnutrition. He has some clearly visible wounds, however, as far as I can judge, they were meant for mere torture purposes, not to kill him. They apparently wanted to keep him alive for as long as possible. But I could very well be mistaken and he could have internal injuries. I did not see much of the outside wounds, because he's so dirty, but he is unconscious and very weak."

Again Dumbledore seemed to process the information, before he spoke on. "Bring him to Remus' cabin, Sirius. Only little magic roams the house. Then try to get a better picture of Severus' condition. Poppy and I will come there as well, right after the meeting. Should his condition suddenly worsen, then send the emergency signal and Poppy will come immediately."

Sirius did not like that at all. He wanted to get rid of Snape as fast as possible and not keep on babysitting him. But the fact that Dumbledore would put up with the Aurors, if ever Poppy should suddenly storm off and disappear without any explanation and the finality in the old wizard's voice held back his protest. Dumbledore's eyes told him that he would do everything so that Snape survived and Sirius had enough respect for the man to accept that and put his personal feelings aside, so he nodded mutely.

"All right, but please hurry up, okay?"

"I am aware that you both don't like one another, Sirius. But please, for once, put your dislike in the background and do what you can for him."

"Certainly, headmaster," sighed Sirius.

The portkey, hexed by Sirius to their new destination, transported them into a clearing, in the middle of which a rather small, two stories high cottage stood. Sirius didn't hesitate for long and only briefly made sure that the injured man, whom he was now carrying on his arms, had survived the journey. Snape's condition seemed unchanged, however, and Sirius nodded encouragingly to Harry before he went toward the house. The boy hurried alongside him, jumped the tree stair steps to the veranda up before him, opened the locked door with an 'Alohomora' and held it open for him.

Sirius smiled gratefully at him and directed his steps straight towards the bathroom. They had to get the dirt off Snape first, to get a closer look at his wounds.

They entered the tile-covered room with the old-fashionable armatures, shower and the metallic bathtub on clawed feet.

Sirius eyed the shower for one moment. It would be the simplest thing to just wash the grime off of Snape, but to do that with the high fastened showerhead, would result in a total mess, and they all would end up soaking wet. Besides, there was the fact that Snape could not possibly keep himself upright.

Then he looked over to the bathtub and felt the blood shoot to his cheeks in disgust and degradation. Damn it, the day Sirius Black would bathe Severus Snape would never come.

With a cleaning charm, it would be a matter of a minute to get him clean, but this way...

Damn, damn, damn...

"And what are we gonna do now?" Harry's voice pulled him out of his desperate search for a less humiliating solution.

He gazed over at his godson, who looked only all too willing to help. Again he swore internally, before answering Harry. "Let the water run warm in the tub for now, but don't shut the drain yet. We have to get rid of the dirt first."

Harry immediately got to work, and Sirius lowered Snape to the ground again. He really did not need all of this, but what choice did he have, if he ever wanted to look Dumbledore in the eyes again?

Sirius unwrapped the body from the coat and threw the fabric carelessly to the side. He moved to reach for the fling of Snape's trousers, but then he hesitated. _This_ was taking the matters way too far. He rose and went to a cabinet under the mirror, where he found a pair of scissors, which Remus had always laying around there. It was good that he was well versed in the house; it saved him a lot of time looking for things.

He went back to Snape and kneeled down beside the man. Then, ignoring the burns on the calves and the fire holes in the trousers as well as possible, he began to cut the fabric open.

As soon as it had cut open the totally soiled trousers and had removed them from Snape's skin, he rolled up his sleeves and, suppressing his disgust, lifted the body again into his arms. The dried blood on Snape didn't really disturb him, but the slimy substance that covered his body and mostly his back bothered him much more, especially since Sirius had seen from where that stuff came.

He let the still unconscious wizard slide into the tub, supporting his shoulders so he didn't immediately sagged in on himself. Doing that, he saw the deep slits, which ran in a zigzag over the potions master's back. He sighed deeply. They really hadn't shown the man much mercy, yet these wounds were not directly lethal and could wait. Thus, he carefully lowered the unconscious man backwards against the wall of the bathtub, letting his head loll against the edge of the tub

Sirius just wanted to ask Harry to take hold the showerhead, but his godson studied the toes of his shoes with obvious nervousness, doing clearly his best not to look at Snape.

"What's wrong, Harry? Do the wounds disturb you?"

Harry simply shook his head and murmured something unintelligible.

"Excuse me?" Sirius asked.

Harry sighed and looked into his eyes, his cheeks covered by a hint of red. "Professor Snape would not want me to see him in such a way," he finally said.

Sirius had not thought about that. It would probably disturb the teenager to see an adult man, particularly a teacher, and thus a person of respect and even more someone like Snape in such a private and exposed position. Even if their actions were necessary to keep him alive.

It looked as if he was not the only one who was unpleased by the situation, but Harry's reaction also showed him how absurd his thoughts were. It had to be done, simple as that.

"I do not like this any more than you do, Harry, you can believe me on that," he said. "Still. I must be able to get a better look at his injuries and for that, we first have to get rid of the dirt." he paused briefly and then added with a smile and a wink, "But if you swear not to tell Snape later, I won't either."

This even drew a small smile from Harry.

"Please fetch the liquid soap from the sink. After that you can hold the showerhead."

Harry did as he had been instructed and Sirius began pedantically to wash Snape without taking his supporting hand away. The potions master lay like dead in his grasp, and Sirius had to interrupt several times to examine Snape and make sure that the man still breathed. But he seemed to be stable enough for the moment.

"Shouldn't I help?" Harry asked hesitantly after a while.

"Better not. Let me wash away the worst of the dirt at first. It's enough that one of us has to touch this here."

"Touch what?"

"I found him laying on a heap of decaying corpses. Part of the grime is some residue of them."

At that, Harry did his best to stay away from Snape's body, while his face took on a sickly greenish colour.

After several repeated scrubs with the soap and washing him off again, Sirius was so far content that he could now address Snape's hair and back, but as he looked at the hair; dishevelled and stiff with grime, blood and who knew what else, he paused. Under normal circumstances, Snape's hair was already something that he would have meticulously avoided coming into contact with, but now...

Apart from that, they may have a chance to get the stench off Snape's body, but never in life out of his half long hair.

"Alright there, Harry. Now let the tub fill up and get me the scissors from the floor." He pointed with his thumb to the general direction of the trousers' remains and Harry obeyed the request with a questioning frown.

"Hold him upright by his shoulders," Sirius instructed, when Harry returned, handing him the scissors.

"What do you want with the scissors?" asked Harry, his hesitance about having to touch his professor, obvious.

"Don't worry. Most of the grime is washed away."

Harry uncertainly reached for the shoulders of the unconscious man and Sirius supported Snape's head. With disgust, he gathered up the hair in his neck and cut it off with only one snap of the scissors.

"He won't be happy about that," commented Harry.

"I don't care," Sirius replied dryly, while he kept on cutting the hair, throwing the severed strands carelessly to the ground, until Snape's hair was merely a couple of centimetres long. "But I will not wash his long, greasy hair until it's clean. I'm not going to do that to myself."

After he was to content enough with the new, short cropped hairdo Snape's, he put the scissors away and bent the potions master's upper body forwards with the help of Harry, so that he got access to the wounds on his back in order to clean them too.

The injuries were without any doubt the result of a whip or something of the kind, and several of the cuts were already inflamed. He began to clean them carefully with a soft rag and earned himself a twitch and quiet groan from Snape, as he touched a heavily inflamed wound.

"It's all right, professor," he heard Harry's worried voice. "We're only helping you."

Sirius did not particularly worry about it. Of course, he did not try intentionally to cause Snape pain but he would not instantly slip into mother hen mode either. He did all of this only for Dumbledore's sake and Snape should not have it any better than himself.

He begun to clean a whitish substance from one of the deeper cuts and again, Snape groaned loudly in pain, even in his unconsciousness.

Harry looked over to him. "What is that stuff?"

Sirius grimaced in distaste. "If I'm not mistaken, then this is brain tissue. Snape has probably been laying on a crushed skull in the room."

Harry's eyes widened and his eyes moved over the wounds on Snape's back, now clean of the dirt and open freely to see. "What? But. That is..." Harry stuttered, while slowly, all colour fled from his face and he seemed to make himself a mental picture of his godfather's words. Then, so fast that Sirius had just enough time to catch Snape's body, Harry jumped up and ran to the toilet, where he threw up violently.

Sirius sighed heavily. "Harry, are you all right?"

Sirius felt compelled to go to his godson's side and help him, but if he let go of Snape, then the injured man would slip under the water. Sirius had expected that Harry would reach his boarder to process this all at a point, but he would not lie to the boy. The whole thing was brutal, but Harry was old enough to learn how brutal Voldemort really was.

After some time, the retching stopped and the toilet was flushed. "I'm alright," croaked Harry, still remaining squatted before the toilet. "I have only just imagined... And then this stench..."

Sirius nodded in understanding, although the boy did not look at him. Even if they didn't smell anything for now, and wouldn't do so until he lifted the hex, it would probably take weeks, until one of them could get rid of the stench's echo.

"Let us finish with his hair and his back, then we can bring him into one to the guest beds and wait for the headmaster and for Poppy," he encouraged and Harry nodded, stood up and walked back to the bathtub once again.

T.B.C.

A/N

You didn't think that I'll really kill off Snape? The only 'casualty' we met in this chapter was Snape's hair, which is bad enough. There will be some real deaths later in this fic though. Among them someone who is very dear to my heart.

Lately I've been thinking a lot about the future fate of canon Snape. There are some things JKR said, which I think are quite worrisome. I may be wrong, but there are things like "Don't feel too sorry for Snape," "I was worried about how many of the moderators see themselves in Slytherin," (Does she now consider Slytherin to be a 'bad' house. I thought that she wouldn't design her universe so two-dimensional. See Peter) or then the answer to the question as to why Dumbledore trusts Snape. She said "I shall merely say that Snape has given Dumbledore his story and Dumbledore believes it." She doesn't say if the story is true or not. Anyway, I somehow fear that I (Like many) got Snape completely wrong. sniff. I don't want him evil, but it would make kind of sense. I mean, JKR creates a character that most readers hate, then this character morphs into some complicated creature that earns some respect, makes us even pity him, only to make Harry's first impulse to mistrust him be correct. Would be evilly genius of her. Anyhow. I've been pondering on that yesterday in bed and I chose to write a very short snippet about something that doesn't leave me alone anymore. I will write this in the next days. Would be great if you give it a try and tell me if you think that it possible too.

Thanks to my two wonderful Betas Slytherin's silver snake and Sadistra


	44. Dumbledore's arrival

Chapter 43:

_Dumbledore's Arrival:_

Albus Dumbledore materialised side by side with Poppy Pomfrey in the small clearing in front of Remus ' cabin. The meeting had meandered along endlessly in Albus' eyes, with one unimportant topic after another being discussed heatedly and in unnecessary length. Topics that solely seemed to have been invented by the Aurors as a distraction from their rather boring assignment. Only years of experience and practiced patience had made it possible for the headmaster to firmly plaster a smile on his face and force his body into a relaxed appearance, even though inside of him feelings of anticipation, fear and worry had been bubbling like an over-boiling cauldron.

After 150 years of life, Dumbledore had seen a lot and he had been forced to bear many sacrifices, but hardly had a sacrifice ever affected him as much as a young Slytherin's by the name of Severus Snape.

He had contributed his part to the fact that the man's life had been wasted. Of course, some important paths to Severus' future had been set at the place that should actually be each child's safe port - his parents' house. But when the boy had arrived at Hogwarts, a mere eleven-year-old child, it should have been the teachers' and particularly Dumbledore's duty to teach the boy how to interact properly with other people.

Sadly, it happened every now and then that such an emotionally crippled child would arrive at Hogwarts. If they were lucky, then a new circle of friends would manage to get through to them. However, these children very often remained alone. It had happened so often already. Tom, Myrtle, Severus, to name a few. He used to tell himself that it was not the task of the school to compensate for the missing upbringing of those unfortunate children. On the other hand, he knew intellectually that they were there for exactly that purpose: to teach those young children how to become capable young witches and wizard, and, above all, good people. If someone were bad in a class, then they were offered private tutoring, but if someone lagged behind in his or her social skills they were left to themselves.

Perhaps he should pay more attention to it. However, he was only the headmaster, one individual man, with a thousand children under his supervision. There were too many to help every one of them with his or her particular problems, yet he could not help to feel regret and guilt if a child would not grow up as he would have liked to see it happen.

Sirius Black, too, had been such an emotionally unbalanced child, probably even more so than Severus, but contrary to the young Snape, Sirius had not had such an unpleasant physical appearance and attitude. He had immediately found friends, who had accepted him and had led him out of his isolation. However, instead of showing sympathy for someone who also was different, the two had developed such a deep hatred towards each other that any chance for reconciliation had become impossible, and Severus had withdrawn so deeply into his isolation, his distrust, and his pain that he had irrevocably lost himself within it.

He was not fooling himself. This had also partly been his fault. He should have recognized what had been going on. That those pranks, which had been played over and over ever since the school existed, were not so easily put away by Severus as it had always seemed to be the case, especially when the boy had fought right back. When he had finally realized the severity of the Slytherin's mental wounds it had been too late. Severus Snape had at last grown into the man whom Dumbledore had glimpsed already in the child; too distant from any other person to care or be cared for. At the time Severus Snape, then a young Death Eater, had shown up in his office, he had been an embittered and lost human soul. A human soul who, despite all the bitterness, and although he could hardly gain anything thereby, fought and risked his life for others. Too distant to really care about anything except for his desire to atone for his sins.

And now, Albus had to accept once again that he was the source of even more suffering in the young Slytherin's life.

He took a deep breath as he followed Poppy, who had started to rush towards the house with a grave expression, her bulky, black medical bag floating in front of her.

He was anxious about what he would find in that house, but, in spite of his fear, all inside him urged to move faster and make sure that the boy was indeed alive.

As they ascended the three steps to the entrance, the door suddenly sprang open and Harry looked at them with such a worried yet relieved expression on his face upon seeing Poppy that Albus' worries enflamed tenfold. Sirius stood a bit in the background, looking extremely relieved as well, but for another reason, Albus supposed.

"Finally, you're here," Harry greeted them.

Poppy paused on the threshold, let her bag sink to the ground and pushed her wand back into her robes.

"From now on, no magic is to be used in this house until I say differently," she announced with vehemence.

Albus followed her into the house whilst she heaved the heavy bag in by hand. He had not found out what curse had been used so far, but if Severus had indeed been magically overloaded then this was quite serious, and they intended to minimize the danger as much as possible until they knew what they were facing.

Harry immediately hurried to their side and helped the nurse with her bag. Once again, Albus was surprised by how similar and still so different Harry and the young Tom Riddle were.

Sirius turned and led them wordlessly up the stairs to the second floor. He stopped in front of the third door to the left of the corridor and held it open for them; however, he made no move to enter the room himself. Albus sighed internally at the Animagus' forbidding facial expression. It would only do both Severus and Sirius good if they finally were able to let go of the past, but, unfortunately, this didn't seem very probable any time soon.

He entered the room first, and when he laid his eyes on Severus, he stopped dead in his tracks, every thought of Black immediately gone.

"Oh, Severus," he breathed.

Despite having known that he must probably look very bad, the Potions Master's appearance still hurt him deep in his heart.

After seconds, the shocked rigidity fell from Dumbledore again and he hurried to the single, narrow bed at the opposite side of the small room where a man laid, one who could hardly be recognized as being alive. The headmaster crouched at the Potions Master's side, wanting to take one of the hands into his, but hesitated when he saw the thick, makeshift white bandages around both of Severus' hands.

Instead, he gently stroked a strand of the unfamiliar looking short hair from Severus' forehead.

It was Pomfrey's businesslike stern voice that finally pulled him out of his shock. "Move aside, Albus. Let me examine him."

Reluctantly, Dumbledore rose and stepped back while Poppy opened the bag Harry had deposited beside the bed. However, his eyes still rested on the Potions Master, taking in the visible injuries and coming to his own conclusions.

Pomfrey first placed two fingers on Severus ' neck, directly over the carotid artery under his jawbone, and, with a twinge of regret, Albus registered the line of irritated skin which ran across the whole width of the young wizard's throat - the only remaining testimony of the event in Harry's vision. At least it looked as if Voldemort's dark healing curse would leave no scars.

Poppy produced a strange hose-like object from her bag, which Dumbledore immediately identified as a Muggle object, but it took his brain a moment to come up with its name. Stethoscope. Right now, Albus was more than grateful that the nurse had an active interest in all medical ways of treatment, including the Muggle ways, even though every healer in the magical world had to acquire certain basic knowledge of that during medical training. When the Mediwitch gently lifted Severus' arms to fold down the linen sheet and uncover his upper body, thus granting the headmaster clear view of the mangled and bruised chest and the poking-out ribs, he instinctively held his breath and blinked twice to get rid of the sudden sting of tears in his eyes.

Nobody deserved to be tormented like this.

Outwardly, the nurse did not seem to be particularly impressed by the wizard's condition. She plugged the bipartite and curved ends of the stethoscope into her ears and pressed the end with the flat, plate-like structure first against Severus' heart and then his lungs. Her overall appearance was relaxed and nonchalant, but Dumbledore knew her long enough to recognize the slightly narrowed eyes and lips drawn into a tight line as indications of helpless rage and disbelief. He could not blame her for her wrath. It was difficult to understand how any human could do such horrendous things to a fellow being.

Apparently contented with what she heard through the stethoscope, Pomfrey's strained mouth relaxed slightly. She removed both ends of the medical device from her ears and put the equipment back into her bag. Then she seized one of her patient's shoulders and squeezed it lightly.

"Severus? Can you hear me?"

The man didn't stir or react in any manner. She turned to Sirius and Harry. "Did he regain consciousness at any time since you found him?"

"He groaned a few times," answered Harry, somewhat intimidated by the situation. Albus could understand that well. Even for him, his inability to help was frustrating.

"Was he responsive at all?" Poppy continued her inquiry.

Harry shook his head. "He did react to touch, though, as if he were in pain."

Poppy nodded gravely. "He will undoubtedly feel pain. Certainly so. Mr. Black, how do you assess the situation?"

Albus followed her glance towards the door, where the Animagus was propped against the doorframe.

Sirius simply shrugged his shoulders, as if the whole thing did not concern him in the slightest, and again, a heavy feeling of regret pressed down on Albus' heart. Why in the name of Merlin couldn't the two overcome their enmity? Even in such a situation, when even the coldest of people would probably feel at least something close to compassion, hate still dominated. And the saddest part of it was that Severus would not feel and act differently were their roles exchanged.

"I am no Mediwizard. That's what you came for."

"That's true, but be so kind as to tell me what your observations are so far anyway, Mister Black. It may help me and save us time."

Sirius sighed dejectedly and began to enumerate. "His hands were perforated, he has bruises all over, whip-inflicted wounds on the back, and burns to the feet and lower legs. Otherwise, at least as far as I can judge it, he's mostly in a hell of a condition due to lack of food and water. At least we managed to clean him up somewhat..."

Sirius was silent, but the disparaging tone he had used when speaking about the cleaning, and the sarcastic remark that had apparently been meant to follow, though was suppressed before being uttered, spoke again of the man's abhorrence and his dislike towards Snape.

Poppy nodded absently, while she once more faced her patient, a serious frown on her face. "All right. First of all, I will thoroughly examine him to see what must be done. You lot had better leave me alone now, so I can work in peace."

"Are you certain that you will not need assistance, Poppy?" Albus inquired doubtfully, trying to tell himself that he wished to remain only for practical purposes, and not because he was concerned for the injured wizard and felt guilty for his condition.

"If I need your assistance, I will think of calling you," Pomfrey snapped, a bit too sharply.

Dumbledore nodded with reluctance and left the room together with Harry and Sirius.

While sitting in the living room a short time later, each holding a cup of tea in their hands, Dumbledore observed Sirius closely. The Animagus was animatedly talking with Harry, discussing the latest Quidditch news. One could hardly accuse the Animagus of being cold and without feelings: quite the opposite. He recognized his godson's sorrows right away and did his best to divert him. Even his snub attitude towards Snape sprang from one of the most intensive emotions - hatred - and this did not make Albus' task any easier. Nevertheless, he knew that Sirius would yield to the job he intended for him - once he got him to agree - and that the Gryffindor would then fulfil that task the best he could.

T.B.C.


	45. YOU WANT WHAT?

Chapter 44

_You want WHAT_

It took over forty-five minutes until Poppy stepped into the living room with a tired face. She let herself fall inelegantly in one of the armchairs.

Albus was on his feet immediately, yet he held back his questions that urged to come forth.

"Sirius, would you be so nice as to get a tea for Madame Pomfrey?" he asked quietly.

The Animagus nodded and disappeared to the kitchen. Dumbledore waited and studied her intently, noticing her tired and sad eyes. Tired, but not hopeless, he concluded with a little relief. He waited until Sirius had again taken his seat on the sofa beside Harry. The former Marauder had to be informed as well, and Poppy should not have to repeat herself unnecessarily. After she had taken a reverent sip of her tea and sighed contently, enjoying the taste and the relaxing effect of the hot beverage, she looked up to him and smiled weakly.

"He will live, Albus."

Albus briefly closed his eyes, and a giant boulder seemed to lift from his heart as his unconscious fears were appeased. A whispered "Thank God," from Harry told him that the boy thought no different. Harry smiled lopsidedly, the relief clear in his eyes, and Sirius put an arm reassuringly around his shoulder.

"You see, Harry? Snape is a survivor. Nothing holds him down for long." He grinned down at his godson who nodded happily.

Albus, whose mood was suddenly more unencumbered now, could not prevent the mischief, which could surely be read in his eyes at this moment, as he thought about how fast Sirius would lose that grin in a little while.

But when he put his attention back on Poppy, he became serious again, the momentary euphoria about the good news wiped away at once.

"How does it look for him?" Severus would live, but after what he had seen, Albus knew that the way of healing would be long and painful.

The nurse sighed again and set her cup on the club table before her.

"He is very weak and like Sirius already said, strongly dehydrated and malnourished. Apparently, they have given him just a drop too much liquid to not let him die of thirst. The wounds on his body are bad, but not life threatening. What had me worried most were his kidneys. By the lack of liquid the risk of a damage there is very strong and I had to give him a weak potion to prevent that."

She looked up to Albus, a mute apology in her eyes. "I know that I should not have used any magic on him, not even potions, but I diluted it considerably and will have to be administered to him in small doses over the next few days for him to get the full dosage."

Albus looked startled at her regretting intonation.

"And?" he required.

"Whatever they have done to him, they have done it efficiently. The potion was very weak and I gave him a mere few drops but Severus' body reacted immediately. His blood pressure practically skyrocketed and it took quite a while to stabilize it again. Nevertheless, I had to give it to him. Without magic I cannot estimate the condition of his kidneys and a failure of these organs would be deadly for him."

She was silent a moment, before she continued. "I used Muggle medications for his other wounds. His feet and shins have second and third grade burns and he will probably not be able to walk on them for a while, perhaps forever if we cannot use magic on him anymore. His shoulder joints are very sensitive and seem to pain him a lot whenever they are moved, but I could not find any injury there. He will hopefully be able to give me more information about them, once he is awake. The whipping wounds at his back were partly infected and it is probable that they will leave scars.

"All this would be so simple to heal, without any traces left, with a healing spell," she sighed finally.

Dumbledore nodded, assenting. He vehemently hoped that they would find a counter curse. Severus' body would heal this way too, but if he couldn't exist in the proximity of magic or make use of it himself, then survival would hardly mean anything anymore. A man such like Severus Snape could not exist so crippled.

"What about his hands?" he asked Poppy.

"That's another story all together. His fingernails were peeled off, but they should re-grow without any problems. What concern me more are his palms. They were magically perforated and even with magic I am not certain whether I could heal it. Muscles, nerve chords and even a part of the bone have dissolved completely. The important blood vessels are intact, however, so I don't have to amputate the hands, but the holes will not close up. His only chance to use the hands ever again is if we find the counter curse and use magic."

Albus lowered his head in defeat. No matter what it took and how much dark magic he may possibly have to use himself, he would find a counter curse. A life without magic and without the use of his hands would be unthinkable for Severus and Albus would not let it come to this.

Sirius took this moment to rise to his feet. "I am sure that you'll manage somehow. But since it's clear now that Snape will survive and Harry's concerns are put to rest, I would gladly disappear. Since I am already here, I can profit from the calm and take a bit of a stroll in the clear air before I return to Hogwarts."

Was there a spark of a suspicion because Sirius wanted to get away so fast? Albus wondered, but it didn't matter. Thus, he went into battle mode.

"I am afraid that this will not be possible, my dear boy."

Sirius narrowed his eyes suspicious. "And why, pray tell, not?"

"Poppy still has to show you what you must pay attention to, when you take further care of Severus." Albus could, despite the seriousness of the momentary situation, not completely stifle a slight smile, while he waited for the explosion to come.

He didn't have to wait for long.

"YOU WANT WHAT? I SHALL...YOU BETTER FORGET ABOUT THAT RIGHT AWAY, ALBUS!

"Calm down, Sirius. You have to help him."

"NO!"

"You are the only one who can leave Hogwarts for a longer period of time," Madame Pomfrey now offered too.

"NO!"

Albus wasn't particularly impressed by Sirius ' vehement refusal; it rather amused him. He knew that the Animagus would finally consent. His sense of honour would order him to. A side glance to a very anxious and somehow oppressed-looking Harry, and Dumbledore knew that the fight might perhaps not be as difficult as he originally had thought.

"Please be reasonable, Mr. Black," Madame Pomfrey said with more vehemence. "I cannot be here for longer than some moments a day, just like the headmaster or Remus Lupin. Severus is not in a position to provide for himself. He has to be monitored around the clock. Even if we take turns and manage not to draw the Aurors' attention to us, then Severus will still be alone for hours in between."

"I don't care. I went to fetch Snape off of a heap of corpses, have ruined my robe because of him and have even bathed him. If you imagine me staying around him any longer holding his hand at his bedside, then you are sorely mistaken. I swear that I'll lose patience with him sooner or later and press a pillow over his head myself."

"How can you be so insensible?" Poppy now said indignantly. "Haven't you seen what they have done to him?"

Sirius ' rage seemed to diminish a little at this. Albus felt sorry for the Animagus. Sirius knew probably more about torture and anguish than all the other persons present. And if it weren't Snape who was the victim, then Sirius would probably also show more sympathy. The hate and the distrust, which had been built for decades by both of them, had clouded their view until the other had become not even a human being anymore, but only the summary of everything they both resented in this world.

Also because of this, Albus thought it would do Sirius some good to experience Snape as a vulnerable and above all human being in need of assistance. Exactly the same as it would make Severus admit for once his vulnerability and accept assistance. To see that Sirius was more than only someone who was out to hurt him. Naturally, that could go terribly awry, but who knew? Perhaps miracles still happened...

"You cannot force me," Sirius stated, even his voice had a tormented quality about it now.

"He is right, Poppy," Albus said at last and earned himself a disbelieving stare of the three persons present. "We will manage, somehow. We take turns and remain with Severus for as long as we can without having someone notice. If Severus' condition is stable for the moment then he can survive some hours by himself."

"Are you mad?" the nurse cried indignantly. "Stable does not necessarily mean out of danger. He is very weak. What if he wakes up and finds himself alone? And what if he tries to get out of bed? He will be confused and he doesn't know this place. And what if the infusion is empty and must be changed? He must be shifted or this will be only the beginning of the difficulties, should he get bedsores. And when he receives the next dose of his potion he must be closely supervised for some hours. His blood circulation could collapse."

Albus stroked leisurely over his beard and calmly eyed the persons in the room. Years ago, he had learned how to let people, especially young ones, drop their facades and a piercing glance, an inappropriate smile or a long pause when everybody expected you to answer, had always done the job.

"As it appears, we must take the risk. None of us can leave Hogwarts without a convincing explanation for a longer period of time and the other members of the order are busy with their other assignments. All will go well, I am sure it will."

"Exactly," Sirius nodded enthusiastically, while Poppy gifted her superior with an indignant glare and Harry looked in such a way, as if he was on the brick of despair. Albus was ready for the crucial point of his plan.

"Severus will survive, I believe. After all, he has suffered under so much bad luck lately that it can't get any worse any more and he'll be lucky this time." He had intentionally taken on a careless and joyful tone of voice and now he reached into his purple robe's pocket and withdraw a small pouch. "Lemon drop, anyone?"

Nobody answered and Poppy's eyes were open so wide in indignation that they looked threatening close of almost falling from their eye sockets.

"But Sir..." Harry said now with trembling voice, "You cannot count on luck. What if he dies? It is my fault that he is in this condition at all and if it must be, then I will stay with him. Please, headmaster. I can care for him."

"Now. Harry," Albus said with fake concern. "If you stay away from classes without explanation, the Aurors will notice and inform the Ministry. And without good reason why you ran away, they will force me to expel you from school."

Harry hesitated only for one second, before his face hardened in resolve. "I don't give a damn! I will do everything to repay my dept. If I get expelled from school by it, then so be it, but at least I can still look at myself into the mirror." One moment after his outburst, he added a somewhat excusing "Sir," to the sentence.

"You cannot do that!" Sirius now shouted, drawing himself up to his full height and standing before his godson with blazing eyes. Albus smiled slightly. Everything went exactly according to plan.

"I cannot let Snape die, Sirius, after I brought him into this mess," apologized Harry and looked his godfather immovably into the eyes.

After one minute of mute staring, in which both tried to bring their intentions across, Sirius finally threw up his hands.

"Very well. I will bloody damn stay here and look after the greasy git, but don't expect me to become all nice and tender with him."

"That's perfectly acceptable, as long as you tend to his wounds and his physical care," smiled Albus. Sirius turned to face him. When he saw the amused smile, however, his eyes widened and Albus could almost see the wheels turning in Sirius ' head as he came to the realization that Albus had manipulated him exactly where he wanted to him to be. The Animagus was not stupid and had it figured out faster than Poppy or Harry and his face morphed into an insulted, angry mask, but Albus knew that now he would not withdraw from his word any more.

"Merlin be thanked," sighed Poppy now. "How could you only consider leaving Severus alone, Albus? In his condition," she scolded, not realizing that Albus would never in life have left the young Slytherin alone. The boy had gone through too much already and had been left alone much too often in his life.

"Well then, come along, Mr. Black. I will show you everything. I want to see to Severus again anyway. His blood pressure must be strictly supervised for the moment." With these words she turned around and left the room. Sirius followed her with a last angry look at Albus and the headmaster thought he had heard a murmured, "Manipulating old bastard," from his direction.

Chuckling, he went to Harry and laid his arm around the boy's shoulders, following the others with the three students in tow.

When they reached the room a little after Poppy and Sirius, the Mediwitch was standing at the small desk and was just explaining to the Animagus how he had to handle the stethoscope and the blood pressure tool. Sirius looked, as if he was having his own execution explained to him, and while Poppy wrote down some instructions on a piece of parchment, Albus sat down at the edge of Severus' bed.

He carefully evaded the tube that ran from a transparent bag with a clear liquid, fastened to one of the high bed posts, to Severus ' inner elbow, disappearing there under some bandages. The injured man lay in a gentle inclination on his side, supported by some cushions beneath his back.

Albus studied with a heavy heart the wizard's sallow face. With paternal gentleness, he cupped the unmoving man's cheek with his hand. "You will pull through this, my friend. We will help you."

He lowered his eyes once more to the hands, now professionally bound in pristine white bandages and took them gently into his own. 'And you will not have to terminate your life as a physical and magical cripple either, if I can somehow prevent it,' he added in thoughts.

T.B.C.

Betaed by Slytherin's silver Snake and Sadistra.


	46. Conscience

Chapter 45

_Conscience _

_Translated by Persephone Lupin_

Harry had retreated to a sofa in the backmost corner of the Gryffindor common room, legs drawn tightly to his body. He was holding onto them with both arms as if he could thus escape the horrors of today. Thank God, Mayweather hadn't been here when he had arrived in the tower. Most probably, the man was sitting in his rooms nearby drinking.

Harry did not know how long he had been sitting like this. He did not look at his watch; time was lost in thoughts circling around the bestiality he had witnessed, and the role he had played in it, as well as around Snape and the condition he had seen him in today. Never in his life would he have thought to see his hated teacher in such a vulnerable position, and this irritated him almost more than the bodily wounds he had observed. Ever since the first Potions lesson, he had despised Severus Snape for his malice and his unfair actions. What he believed to be pure loathing had grown immensely when he thought Snape guilty of murdering Sirius, and only the vision of Voldemort cutting the man's throat had shown him what hatred truly was. He wasn't capable of this feeling. True hatred meant to wish death upon somebody, to feel joy when this person was suffering. Harry had believed he would experience these emotions, but he had been wrong. He had never liked Snape, but he didn't hate him. Only people without conscience could truly hate. He had been too naive to see this; that was all. There was no white and black. Good and evil were always relative, and behind every angry word was a human being with feelings.

The portrait of the Fat Lady moved aside at some point of time and Ron and Hermione came rushing in, hastening to his side when they saw him.

"Harry, thanks goodness! The headmaster told us we would find you here," Hermione said, slightly breathless. "Are you ok?"

Harry nodded silently.

Ron sat beside him on the sofa. "You did frighten us quite a bit when you suddenly disappeared together with Sirius. In Merlin's name! What were you thinking of?"

"I had to go," he mumbled in his knees. "Snape was found out and imprisoned because of me."

A minute of silence followed this statement before Hermione asked shyly, "And? Did the two of you find him?"

Harry nodded again while trying desperately to drive away the images of Snape's maltreated, stinking body, the burn marks and festering wounds, the protruding ribs and the dirt. The white substance Sirius had removed from the sores on his back...

He closed his eyes to get rid of the memory. "He looks pretty bad, but he's still alive, and Madame Pomfrey says he stands a good chance of pulling through."

"Then everything's all right, isn't it," Ron said merrily. "Nothing bad happened, and Snape will deduct points from Gryffindor and scream at us again soon enough." At the last words, his voice had almost re-acquired the characteristic note of frustration and antipathy that always was there when discussing Snape and his unfair behavior in class. But Harry felt nothing of the usual dislike, just a sting of melancholy deep inside his heart.

"He might never be able to teach again. Voldemort has magically overloaded Snape. He must not even come close to any magic; he could die of it. He was tortured badly and has wounds so terrible ... " Again, he was overcome by helpless self-accusations and grief. "They just threw him onto a pile of corpses, half dead of torture, starvation and thirst. During the time I was there, he never regained consciousness, but even unconscious he was whimpering from the pain…"

Silence followed this statement. Ron and Hermione would surely have difficulty in picturing the malicious Potions master whimpering. Had he not seen it with his own eyes .… He buried his face between his knees again.

After a long minute of depressed silence, a hand gently touched his thigh.

"What are you thinking about?" asked Hermione.

Harry lifted his head again and looked at her sadly. "About last year and everything that happened this month. Do you still remember the day in Court?"

Both nodded.

"Madame Pomfrey said that Snape's fingernails had been ripped out. And that was exactly what I wanted to do with him to punish him."

"But you didn't know anything then, Harry," Hermione tried to console her friend.

"That's no excuse. When Ron said that we'd love to watch Snape's soul being sucked out by the Dementors, I was happy that he had heard it. That he knew how little he meant to everybody. Imagine how he must have felt then, and, despite all this, he was still willing to risk everything. I have no idea why he did it. Not out of brotherly love, that's for sure. Snape is too mean and bitter to feel anything like this. Still, he took on the risk for people who meant as little to him as he meant to them, while I wrote the letter that almost brought death upon him out of love for my godfather. What sort of person does that make him? And me?"

"It wasn't you letter alone, Harry, we all were part of it," Ron tried to comfort Harry halfheartedly. He looked insecure and ashamed as if he was only now realizing the true extent of the entire bloody mess, and their role in it.

"I can't believe it," Sirius choked out between clenched teeth as he supported Snape in his sideways position, one hand on his shoulder, and removed the supportive pillow from behind his back. Morosely, he let it drop onto the mattress beside the man's legs. "I, Sirius Black, am acting as a nurse for Snape of all people."

Slightly frustrated, he let the Potions master roll onto his back, causing him to moan softly when sudden pressure was exerted to the wounds there. Sirius felt a mixture of embarrassment at not having thought of this and frustration about the fact that he was here at all. "Now, don't make a fuss, Snape. Believe me, I don't enjoy this, either."

He removed the pillows from underneath the man's legs, and began controlling the bandages, gauzes and pads exactly as Madame Pomfrey had shown him.

"No, not fun at all," he murmured as he lifted one of Snape's legs and started to move it gently while massaging the muscles above the burned sections to improve blood circulation. Pomfrey and Dumbledore would never forgive him if blood clots were forming because he hadn't paid attention.

"James would turn in his grave if he saw me like this," he commenced telling off the unconscious man in his quiet monologue. "I bet you'd love this, wouldn't you, Snivellus?"

He lowered the leg onto the mattress again, but this time made sure to not move it abruptly. Then he repeated the procedure with the other limb. "But I swear that, if you ever mention a single word about all this, I'll tell all your students that the dreaded Potions master couldn't even go to the loo without help."

Of course, Sirius didn't expect Snape to actually hear him, but his one-sided tirade did help a lot to reduce his frustration.

He put the leg down on the bed and turned the limp body onto the other side, placing the pillow behind the man's back again. The legs were also supported by a pillow, thus leaving the burnt feet and calves lying as freely as possible, before Sirius covered Snape up to his chest with the sheet again.

He then sat on the edge of the bed, produced a cloth from inside a small bowl filled with water, wrung it out a little and lifted it to Snape's face. From his time in Azkaban, he knew that it was more than unpleasant to be thirsty, and even though Snape wasn't able to drink while he was unconscious, a little fluid would surely help reduce the thirst and prevent inflammations of the mouth's mucous membrane. However unwillingly he had taken over the job, it was still better than letting Harry put his career on the line. He intended to do the job as good as he could, so that Snape would recover as soon as possible. For Harry's sake and Dumbledore's, plus he would be able to get away from here more quickly. As soon as Snape could manage on his own not even ten giants would keep him in close vicinity of the man. He would do what had to be done, but that was it. Nothing more. Obviously, Voldemort's magical overloading had also lifted the spell that kept Snape shaven, so this would have to be done the Muggle way in future. Too bad for Snape, he would have to get used to a beard, thought Sirius, since there was no way he would shave him. Never in his life.

Sirius wiped the thin layer of sweat away from Snape's face first, and at the touch of cold water, the Potions master moaned softly and leaned into the cloth almost unnoticeably.

"You don't mean to grace us with your presence again, Snape, do you?" asked Sirius mockingly. He snorted, and then dipped the cloth into the bowl again. He wrung out the surplus liquid and lifted the rag to Snape's parched lips. "Try to suck on this if you are awake, Snape. It'll help ease the dryness in your mouth."

Sirius suppressed an acidic comment, but couldn't completely ban the harshness from his voice. When he touched Snape's lips with the wet piece of cloth and let some drops of water drip into the half-opened mouth, ordering: "Drink!", the man's reaction, however, wasn't the one he had expected. As soon as the liquid wetted his tongue, the man winced violently. His eyes clenched shut, and his entire body began to tremble, while he tried to move his head away, moaning panicky. But he didn't seem to have the energy for even a tiny movement like this. Startled, Sirius withdrew the hand holding the rag. He wasn't prepared for such a violent reaction at all. Plus he was convinced that Snape wasn't even fully awake.

"Snape?"

The tremors only increased in intensity, and Sirius could see Snape's eyeballs move frantically underneath their lids. His breathing was quick and irregular.

Sirius grew increasingly restless. Snape wouldn't die on him now, would he? He wouldn't be able to look neither Harry nor Dumbledore straight in the eye ever again. "Snape! Damn you, stop it. Wake up, instantly!"

Everything hurt. His entire body was an aching wound. Scraps and pieces of memories whirled about in his head without making any sense at all. There were voices making fun of him, a human form with near to white hair, and another one with red eyes who laughed loudly and revoltingly. He experienced a strong feeling of shame and humiliation but couldn't remember why. White-hot coals were there too, and empty eyesockets in a skull half eaten by decay. Chains and knives. The pictures whirled and whirled before his inner eye, faster and faster, until his skull felt like bursting into a thousand pieces.

But then, something cool and soft gently touched his face, providing him with a new hold onto which he could concentrate through the thick haze that enveloped his mind. The touch was so gentle; it gave him a sense of security and protectiveness he had never felt before. He moaned and leaned into the touch. But, all of a sudden, it vanished again, and the pleasant coolness it had provided and that had so marvelously cleared his thoughts changed into an icy cold as only air met his skin. He heard a voice from somewhere, but the words seemed to be too far away for him to understand.

And then, something wet was pressed against his mouth, and through the haze he heard the order "Drink" echoing in his mind. Before he knew why, he was seized by an enormous wave of panic that ate into his very bones. Blood ... the blood of the child ... dead eyes ... If he didn't drink, something horrible would happen ... He had to obey ... He had to but couldn't. The panic had him completely in its grip now and threatened to choke him, pressed him down. He had to drink ... had to ... was terribly thirsty, but couldn't. His stomach turned and every fiber in his body screamed to run. But he had to obey ... Something horrible would happen ... The thoughts were racing faster and faster, colliding with his emotions again and again until everything vanished and nothing was discernable anymore. Nothing but a dead weight on his chest that became ever heavier.

"Snape! Damn you, stop it. Wake up, instantly!"

The voice got through to him, eventually, and ripped his mind out of the nightmare. His eyes shot open, and, for a moment, he saw only a veil of gray.

"At last. In time, too. I already thought you'd snuff it right here an now."

He recognized the voice. It awoke some pressing unholy feeling inside him and Severus clenched his eyes shut for a moment. When he opened them again, the gray veil was lifting slowly and the shape of a head began to form. After blinking twice, the features of the face became visible too, and Severus looked into the face of a black-haired man with furrowed brows. It took his brain a few seconds to put a name to the face. Sirius Black. And another second to come to the realization that he hated the man. He couldn't remember exactly why, but his panic of just now transformed into unbearable wrath. His heart that had been about to calm down from the horrible memories began to race again as his mind tried to process the flood of overwhelming insights and emotions. He didn't know where he was but his whole body ached. He had barely enough energy to keep his eyes open, and, for some reason his hazy brain couldn't recall, he had the feeling of having failed in something very important. And Sirius Black was here to make fun of his failure. As so often before.

"You ..." he began to swear at Sirius, but only a croaking noise left his throat.

Black grinned at him spitefully, which made him ever more angry. How dare the damned mutt make fun of him? And why on earth was he in this pitiful condition? What had happened? How dare Black feast on his weakness? His eyelids became heavier, but he forced them open by sheer will and stared at the Animagus with unconcealed hatred. He curled his lips in a gesture of contempt, ignoring the tugging pain caused by the tiny movement. He wouldn't let Black witness his weakness ... if only his eyelids weren't so heavy ...

Before he sank into unconsciousness again, he could hear Black's disparaging remark, "You'll never change, ungrateful greasy git that you are."

T.B.C.

Betaed by Slytherin's silver snake and Sadistra.

So people. Since it's Persephone doing the translation for now, you're presented with a much better writing starting this chapter. I'd like to shovel all credit down to her and to our wonderful Betareaders (Who suddenly don't have to spend _hours_ to correct my awful spelling anymore:-P) Thanks you three. You're awesome.

And also thanks to those amazing reviewers.


	47. Old Enmities

Chapter 46:

_Old Enmities_

'Why, for Merlin's sake, did Dumbledore manipulate me into this situation,' thought Sirius Black angrily, whilst running in his dog shape through the forest, once in a while jumping over some protruding root.

The Animagus forced himself to run at high speed. He always felt this to be one of the best ways to work off his frustration. He knew he couldn't stay away from the hut very long, but without the physical exercise he would have exploded and wouldn't have been able to guarantee Snape's well being any longer.

What did the old man think he was doing? This would never work. He really had tried to help Snape, however unwillingly, even though the mere sight of the man made his blood boil. And then, the bastard dared look at him in such an arrogant and condescending way, as if he was nothing but a worthless slave. How typical of Snape. Typical of Slytherins. They felt superior to each and every wizard. They owned the world. To show a little bit of gratitude wouldn't have been too much to ask for, now would it?

Apart from this first time, the Potions master had woken twice for a few moments but had hardly been responsive. Sirius had contacted Albus and Madame Pomfrey after the first time, and the Mediwitch had explained that Snape's body tried to compensate for the hardship by sleeping a lot. This would change as soon as his body fluids were balanced again and he had taken in some nutrients with the infusion. He would be more lucid, then, and stay awake for longer periods of time.

That's when the real fun would begin for Sirius. His first 'conversation' with the Slytherin had surely been nothing more then a meagre foretaste.

Snape had always been like this. Arrogant, obsessed with power and with a strong tendency for evil. Exactly like those people Sirius had always rebelled against; those who had made his early childhood hell.

In his opinion, Snape had found his true vocation as a Death Eater. Already in school, Sirius and the other Marauders had always suspected that Snape didn't take the distinction between good and evil too seriously. The Dark Lord would have done them all a favour if he had just killed the arrogant bastard.

The moment this thought formed in his mind he felt guilty about it and slowed down into an unhurried pace. Nobody deserved death, and usually such thoughts didn't cross his mind. Only Malfoy, Snape, and the Dark Lord himself made him think like this. In his opinion, Snape was as dangerous as his master and he didn't understand at all why Dumbledore trusted him so blindly. Why wouldn't anybody see that he posed a deadly threat? That Snape would turn on them as soon as the other side offered better profits or was victorious in the war. Slytherins were born opportunists and Snape would join the winning side as soon as things began to look bad for the Order.

Damn it.

With a strangled cry, Snape shot up into a half-sitting position, only to sink back into his pillows totally worn out from the movement. His vision started flickering when a sharp pain shot through his body. His heart beat frantically as sheer terror pressed down on his ribcage, making his body tremble violently.

Once again, he couldn't tell where he was. However, he couldn't bring himself to give that too much importance at the moment. Breathing in deep gasping breaths, eyes closed, he tried to suppress the panic. Had it been a dream that had brought about this condition? He couldn't remember. What was dreams and what was reality after all? He had dreamt of Black, too. That he wasn't in the cell anymore but in some bed, only to find Sirius Black by his side. What a mockery….

Slowly, his heart calmed down, though an echo of the panic still lingered on, weakened only by the leaden resignation that seemed to crush him ever since the last of the children died.

Then Severus realized something strange. He didn't lie on hard stone anymore but on soft pillows.

He opened his eyes to stare at the walls of a small, wood-panelled room. His gaze wandered to his hands that were bandaged, and he saw a thin tube that disappeared under another bandage on his elbow. The pain in his body was still there, but somebody seemed to have treated his wounds.

Suddenly, he understood. It hadn't been a dream. Black was here, and he was finally away from Malfoy and the Dark Lord.

Somehow, he had been rescued.

When the realization sank in, a feeling of utter despair settled on him once again.

Why?

Why had they rescued him now? Why hadn't they come earlier? Before he had lost the last remnants of pride and self-respect.

He had failed, as so often before. He hadn't been able to save his integrity. He had humiliated himself in front of Malfoy and Voldemort. Again, he was the loser, the idiot, the clown they all made fun of. He blinked against the sting of hot tears that threatened to fill his eyes. Why hadn't they let him die?

Why was it that they had to find him laid bare in his shame, weak and exposed?

Because Malfoy was right, he knew this instinctively. He was worthless and weak, and all his efforts to appear superior and strong, to make people respect him, had been in vain. A pathetic imitation of a teacher and of a human being. He was, at the most, good enough to writhe before somebody's feet and let himself be trampled upon. Nothing but a means to an end. A whimpering coward.

And Black, of course, was one of the first to feast on his weakness.

Black would thoroughly enjoy this, as would all the others who saw him in his current state. Weak and exposed.

Severus pushed these thoughts back as far as possible. His mind was confused, his emotions incomprehensible, even to himself. There were shame, disappointment, anger, and for the first time in his life he felt the helpless force of despair and self-pity.

Self-pity. He, Severus Snape?

The flaring voice of pride that would never have allowed for a feeling like this before had become strangely feeble and quiet. He felt self-pity because of the injustice of his life, and anger and shame because of his failure to stay at least true to himself.

Everything had changed. His life had been ripped from him, and though his heart was still beating, his lungs still pumping oxygen into his veins, he had died. No, worse than that. They had broken him. He was worth less than nothing.

"Back among the living, are we? Ready to scare children again?" he heard a mocking voice say.

Sirius Black was standing in the doorway, sneering at him contemptuously.

In his current state of mind, Severus' could only rudimentarily grasp that Sirius referred to his usual behaviour as a teacher. His crippled soul, however, got stuck with the memory of the four little children he hadn't been able to save.

Immediately, a mental trapdoor shut down, and he suppressed a shiver.

"Get lost, Black."

Severus ignored the scratching pain in his throat and the numb, dry feeling in his mouth. He barely noticed how hoarse his voice was. All he could do was concentrate on breathing and try to calm down his racing heart to suppress the panic that began to take root again.

"Back to your good old charming self again. What a surprise."

"I don't want to see you."

Sirius gave a short, joyless laugh. "Then we have something in common for once, Snape. I'm not exactly keen on being here, either. I wouldn't have minded leaving you with the likes of them back there! Unfortunately, Dumbledore forced me to take care of you."

Sirius's voice was loaded with enmity and loathing, but Severus didn't pay attention to it. He was concentrating on processing the information; Sirius had provided. Dumbledore? He had searched for him after all? A hint of hope took hold of him. Had Malfoy lied?

"Dumbledore found me?" He was too amazed to give his voice the usual chill, and hardly noticed Black furrowing his brow in surprise.

"We received a letter off You-Know-Who telling us where to find you."

A letter? Of course. How idiotic to assume that Dumbledore had searched for him. After receiving the letter, his honour would press him to arrange for his retrieval. Exactly as he would do for any stranger. Severus was a complete fool to think that Dumbledore ever considered him a friend.

Yet, why would this be so important to him now? Hadn't he always contented himself with being alone?

"I said get lost, Black, you flee-infested bastard. I don't want to see you!"

Well, at least the bite in his voice was back. He didn't need the others more now than he had before. If he didn't trust anybody, then he couldn't get hurt anymore. Nevertheless, and in spite of his efforts to talk himself into believing this, the veil of despair drew ever closer around him. He was so tired. Of course, he knew that this was a reaction to the torture and injuries. However, it occurred to him that it was his entire life that weighed him down: a life that seemed strenuous and devoid of meaning. He didn't want all this anymore.

Severus closed his eyes in the attempt to shut out everything around him.

"I'd love to leave you to your own devices, Snape, but I fear I have to give you the next dose of medicine first."

This time, Black's voice was loaded with malicious joy, and Severus opened his eyes again to shoot a venomous glare at the Animagus. Why didn't the idiot leave him alone? His whole body ached, his mouth was unpleasantly dry, and he was tired. Black's sneering remarks were just too much.

"I don't need your help, Black."

Black grinned his crooked, condescending grin, the very same one Severus had already loathed so much when they were still in school. "Feel free to try take the potion on your own then. Though I don't believe you'll be able to hold something with those hands yet."

Instinctively, Severus gazed at his bandaged hands. He remembered what Malfoy had done to them. Crippled and pierced they were, and the constant burning pain in his palms would keep him from forgetting about it, too. Why wasn't Poppy here to heal his wounds? Why didn't she say a few healing spells and give him some potions that really helped, so he wouldn't have to lie here thus vulnerable and filled with agony?

"Where is Poppy?"

"In Hogwarts. Unfortunately, she cannot leave easily, nor can the headmaster, because the school swarms with Aurors. That's the reason why I've been condemned to stay here and see that you don't kick it. Pomfrey was here some hours ago, and before you start asking, no, she couldn't magically heal your wounds."

Severus' interest was aroused, and he even forgot to make his face look forbidding for a brief moment. "What? Why is this?"

"Your master left you with a little farewell gift before writing the letter to Dumbledore."

"He's not my master," Severus growled, but the very moment he said so he was overcome by memories again.

_'Who is your master, Severus?'_

_'You are my master.'_

"However," Black's voice snapped him out of it again, "Voldemort has magically overloaded you. Therefore, any kind of magic would harm you. Which means no spells, and only very limited use of potions."

Severus closed his eyes. He vaguely remembered some curse he hadn't recognized, and the terrible feeling of being ripped apart alive. No magic anymore. Merlin, why had they saved him at all? This was worse than death. He had always been disliked, but now he was absolutely useless, too. 'Voldemort has proven effectively who the master is,' a sarcastic voice, which had become very quiet lately, murmured inside his head.

"The potion you have to take is not entirely without risk, either. Madame Pomfrey said I should wait with the next dosage until you are responding and somewhat better off again. Seems as if this was the case now judging from your back-to-normal arrogant behaviour."

Opening his eyes again, Severus saw Black placing a hand-mirror - most likely a magical one - and some strange-looking Muggle instruments close at hand.

Black seemed to have noticed his gazing sceptically at the instruments, and snorted contemptuously.

"Of course, it would be too much to expect that you of all people are familiar with Muggle devices, wouldn't it? These are for monitoring your circulatory system, and with the mirror I can call Madame Pomfrey if necessary. It might well happen that your body reacts badly to the potion, and though I couldn't care less, some others evidently don't want you to die after all the effort they have spent on saving you."

Ignoring Black's verbal attack, Severus fixed his gaze on the small vial filled with brownish liquid in the Animagus' hand as if it was his Holy Grail. If his body reacted to the magic and his circulatory system broke down, he would finally be delivered from this nightmare, the shame and this whole bloody life.

t.b.c.

Translated by Persephone Lupin and Betaed by Slytherin silver's snake and Sadistra.


	48. Of Potions and Crucios

Chapter 47:

_Potions and Crucios_

Sirius took his time in fetching a glass of water and a spoon from the cottage's little kitchen. He wasn't in a hurry to make Snape swallow the potion, seeing as he didn't expect the man to comply without protesting. Even if Snape realised that the medicine would help him and that, most probably, he himself had brewed it for Pomfrey, the mere fact that it was Sirius who was administering it would be reason enough for him to cause an ugly scene. Mind you, the man usually didn't need a reason to throw a fit.

As soon as he had recovered enough energy, Snape was already spouting poison again. How typical.

Sirius cast a reassuring glance at the kitchen clock then mounted the stairs leading to the first floor. Pomfrey had told him to wait with the potion until dinner was finished at school so she would be able to sneak away more easily in case she was needed. When he entered the room, Snape's eyes were closed, and for a moment he thought the man had fallen asleep again.

"Snape?"

No reaction.

Sirius sighed morosely and put the glass and spoon on the nightstand beside the stethoscope and the vial with the potion.

He grabbed Snape's shoulders to shake him awake, but as soon as his hand had touched him, the black eyes flew open. His gaze full of panic, Snape searched the room until he finally noticed Sirius and seemed to remember where he was. Instantly, the panic disappeared behind a forbidding mask.

Sirius remembered well how easily scared he had been the first days after his escape from Azkaban until he had finally got used to his newfound freedom. However, Snape had been away for no longer than barely two weeks. In all likelihood, it was his weak condition that was responsible for most of his panicked reactions.

"Your medicine, Snape."

The Slytherin stared at him defiantly, curling his lips into a near-snarl.

_Bloody bastard. A simple 'thank you' couldn't be that difficult, could it?_

"I would stop that if I were you. You'll only add to your pain by ripping open the skin on your lips again."

The expression of defiance on Snape's face deepened. "I didn't ask for your help, Black."

Ignoring the Potions master's words, Sirius bent forward and removed the pillows from under his back while holding the man by his shoulders. Then he let him glide onto the mattress again, only to raise him into a half-sitting position afterwards, placing pillows behind Snape's back to support him in this position. During the procedure he didn't utter a word, and he wasn't especially gentle with the man either, though he tried to not hurt him unnecessarily. Still, a pained gasp escaped Snape's lips as he was lifted. Sirius ignored this as well. Snape would survive it, no doubt. He couldn't expect to be handled with kid gloves as long as he was not at all trying to be a little nicer himself. Then Sirius recalled Albus and what the old wizard expected of him. Sirius owed him to do his best, not withstanding how hard it was on him. After all, Dumbledore could have expelled him when his - admittedly not very well thought through - prank had gone so wrong. But who would have expected Snape to actually follow his instructions?

No, he refused to think about this. Shit happens, and nobody had been hurt after all.

Sirius turned away from the panting Potions master and reached for the spoon. He filled it with a little water and lifted it to Snape's mouth when Snape was looking at him again. "Your stomach won't keep down that much yet, but with your mouth parched like this you'll have difficulties swallowing the medicine, and I really don't want to repeat the whole procedure. You'd better drink a few drops first. You must be thirsty."

This time, he had even tried to sound somewhat friendlier, but instead of an answer Snape refused to look at him. For some unfathomable reason, he turned his head towards the wall and firmly closed his eyes as if trying to shut the words out. Before he averted his gaze, however, Sirius had glimpsed a new flicker of panic in the man's eyes.

Well, now Snape surely overdid things quite a bit. Merlin, he had been away for only two weeks. Not even his injuries could justify his cowardly behaviour.

Snivellus.

Even though outwardly a bully, the nickname fitted perfectly. Cowardly, opportunistic Slytherin. Always big with words and when in a group, but as soon as things really got tough, he turned tail and wriggled around the problems somehow. Only it hadn't worked this time.

Gradually, Sirius's frustration turned into rage. Snape had no right to act up like this. Sirius could tell the man a thing or two about suffering. His own imprisonment had lasted for twelve long years, and the greasy git made such a fuss about two weeks.

"Open your bloody mouth and drink! Now!" he growled angrily.

Sirius was prepared for another verbal fight, but winced and almost spilled the water when Snape's eyes shot open at the order, wide with shock. He opened his mouth obediently while an obvious shiver ran through his body.

Sirius blinked in amazement. He hadn't expected this almost automatic response. Especially not of the Potions master. However, he quickly recovered his wits, brought the spoon to Snape's lips and let the water drip into his mouth. The Slytherin swallowed obediently, then closed his eyes. Sirius couldn't tell whether from a feeling of pleasure which the water was bound to cause in the parched throat, or from something else. He eyed the man distrustfully. Eventually, Snape opened his eyes again, taking a deep breath before meeting Black's gaze, and flashed a glare of pure loathing at him. Any trace of weakness vanished.

"Don't you treat me like a child, you flee-ridden bastard," he hissed through clenched teeth.

Sirius tried hard not to respond with spite. He really was an idiot if he ever believed Snape capable of showing something like normal human emotions. Whatever had caused his previous reaction was definitely over. Though ... Snape's insult seemed strangely defensive, if still venomous non the less.

No wonder. Most likely, he was ashamed of his cowardly behaviour. For letting his true face show through: the face of a snivelling wimp.

If there only wasn't ... Snape's eyes had reflected an enormous amount of emotions Sirius couldn't place. What had caused this strong reaction? It was hard to believe that his weakness and the injuries alone were responsible for the man's sudden loss of control.

"Let's wait a few minutes in order to see whether your stomach will keep down the water before we try with the medicine."

Snape only glared at him contemptuously. Ignoring the Slytherin, Sirius turned to the glass again. He opened the vial and refilled the spoon with water. Then he measured two drops of the potion into the spoon. Strange that Snape hadn't even asked what kind of potion it was... Considering his usual paranoia, Sirius would have expected him to do so. But then, Sirius thought, as a Potions master he might know the potion by its colour anyway.

He held out the spoon in front of Snape's face once again. However, the wizard seemed to have fully recovered from his previous episode of weakness and demonstratively kept his mouth shut to further provoke the Animagus.

Sirius rolled his eyes in frustration. Would Dumbledore really take it that badly if he hexed Snape for a few seconds?

"Come on, just say that you won't let me feed you the stuff. It'll be so much more fun to force it down your throat," he threatened instead.

Snape stared at him darkly and curled his lips in contempt. However, when Sirius brought the spoon closer to his mouth, eyebrows raised expectantly, he opened up without resistance and allowed Sirius to administer the draught.

"Good boy," Sirius mocked. "If you continue to behave yourself, I'll give you a cookie next time."

Snape shot him a devastating glare, but didn't say a word. He turned away from Sirius instead and stared at the opposite wall.

"Pomfrey promised to come later on, in case your body reacts badly to the potion. Last time, you had trouble with your circulation. That's why I'm under a strict order to stay with you until she can make it here."

"Don't feel obliged, Black. I'm fine, and as soon as you are gone I'll feel even better." Snape's voice was icy as he continued his staring contest with the wall.

Sirius gave a short and annoyed laugh. "Oh yes, of course you are. If you really were fine I would hardly be forced to stay here with you. I guess this is the absolute low of my career. I almost wished I were back in Azkaban. There, at least, I wouldn't have to bear the presence of a greasy git like you."

Sirius waited for the inevitable sarcastic remark but the man didn't react. He was still staring at the wall.

"You don't even consider it worthwhile to answer me, do you?" Sirius asked angrily.

Snape's only response was to slowly close his eyes and clench his jaws. His respiration sped up, and Sirius observed that the man's arms, which were lying on the cover, began to tremble.

"Snape?" asked the Animagus nervously. Something was decidedly wrong here.

He quickly grabbed the Slytherin by his shoulders, snapped away the supportive pillows from behind his back and let him glide onto the mattress. Nevertheless, the trembling was increasing steadily, and a pained groan escaped from between Snape's tightly clenched lips.

"Hey, what are you up to, Snape? Try to take the piss out of me? This is not fun, you know." Sirius tried to talk himself into believing that his childhood enemy only wanted to pay back his malicious remark by scaring him, but, at the same time, he knew instinctively that this wasn't the case at all. It wasn't a simple circulatory breakdown either. This was far more serious.

Hastily, he reached for the Potions master's neck with his hand. Snape's pulse was racing, and sweat began to pour down his brow while the tremors were dying down. Yet, the respite lasted for seconds only. Suddenly, Snape arched his back and, with a strangled cry, reared up throwing his arms sideways. Sirius just managed to step aside in time so he wouldn't be hit. The small table beside the bed, however, tipped and fell to the ground together with the stethoscope, potion, water, mirror and spoon.

In the narrow bed, the Potions master now started to throw himself back and forth, screaming, and only the fact that his legs were entangled in the sheets saved him from falling to the floor. It wouldn't work much longer, though.

Sirius was seized by panic. What was he supposed to do? He hadn't expected anything like this at all. First of all, he had to try to keep Snape from hurting himself.

Without thinking twice, he lay down on the man in order to push him back into the pillows with his own weight. However, even when pressing down with all his might and using one leg to pin down Snape's kicking limbs, Sirius hardly managed to keep the screaming and violently convulsing wizard inside the bed.

"Bloody hell, what's wrong with you?" Sirius looked around frantically. He had to somehow fixate Snape, but he couldn't let go of him to fetch some rope or something to bind him. Then his gaze fell upon the mirror on the floor beside the bed. Without taking away his entire weight from Snape, he reached for the mirror and managed to get hold of it with the tips of his fingers. He leaned forward a few more inches, just enough to lift the mirror.

"Pomfrey," he panted into the glass. At the same moment, he was hit into the ribs by a wildly thrashing arm. "Ouch, don't knock me out if you can help it, Snape."

Snape's spasms didn't decrease in strength, and it was frightening to see how much force the otherwise so mangled and weak body could still muster. To Sirius, it seemed to take forever until finally the round face of the Mediwitch appeared inside the magical mirror.

"Mister Black? What ..."

"Madame Pomfrey, you must come here. NOW!" Sirius interrupted. The Mediwitch's eyes widened when noticing the panic in the man's voice, and the mirror went blank as she interrupted the connection.

"You better hurry, Pomfrey," whispered Sirius as he dropped the mirror and concentrated on the convulsing body beneath him. He wouldn't be able to hold Snape down for much longer. His muscles were already beginning to ache from the effort of bracing himself against the writhing Potions master. Nevertheless, it was absolutely necessary to control the spasms as much as possible. He'd no doubt end up having badly sore muscles. And the wounds on Snape's back would be ripped open again. Even worse, however, was the scenario that Dumbledore's favourite Slytherin might hit his head when falling off the bed, or hurt himself even more badly on the ground.

It took less than two minutes until Sirius heard hasty steps hurrying up the wooden stairs, and shortly after, Madame Pomfrey came rushing into the room, closely followed by Dumbledore. They had indeed been quick, Sirius had to admit. The Mediwitch hastened over to the bed. "What happened?"

"Merlin, Sirius, what have you done to Severus?" asked Dumbledore in consternation when he saw what was going on.

Sirius wanted to reply but he still had his hands full with keeping Snape from falling off the bed. He made a mental note to later enlighten Dumbledore about why he was handling 'his' Snape so roughly. As soon as he was delivered from a wildly thrashing Potions master, that is. At least the man didn't scream anymore but groaned through cramped jaws.

"He ripped out the infusion hose," Pomfrey said reproachfully.

"Sorry that I didn't pay attention to _that_ detail on top of it all," Sirius responded with anger.

The Mediwitch ignored his sarcastic remark. "Hold him tight, Mister Black, or he'll hurt himself."

Sirius would have rolled his eyes if he wasn't too busy pressing Snape's upper body back onto the mattress with his all his weight and, at the same time, holding the Potions master's arms down beside his body.

"Really, what do you think I've been doing all the time?"

Pomfrey held Snape's head and checked his pulse. "Albus, come and help me keep him still!" she ordered without looking up.

Dumbledore seemed to awaken from a trance and moved quickly toward the head of the bed when the Mediwitch made room for him. He grabbed the Potions master by his shoulders and held him carefully but with determination while starting to talk to him soothingly.

Pomfrey walked over to the bag she had left there the last time she had visited. She rummaged in it for a short while, took a small, white-and-blue package out of it, opened said package and busied herself with the contents for a moment before returning to the bed. She squeezed in between Sirius and Dumbledore, grabbed Snape's chin deftly and, by exerting pressure to certain points of his jaw, forced his mouth open. She put a little white platelet into his mouth, after which she withdrew the pressure and held his jaws tight with both hands. After a while, Snape's twitching became weaker, and the spasms that had made his body rigid began to subside.

Sirius drew a breath of relief. He half sat up and somewhat slackened his hold, ready to re-establish his grip any moment if necessary. However, Snape had stopped thrashing. Only his sweat-glistening body and an almost invisible quiver were present as last reminders of the previous drama. Dumbledore continued stroking his sweat-matted short hair and talked soothingly to the man whose eyelids were half-closed. Then, after another, more violent shudder, they closed entirely. The ragged, gasping breaths evened out, as the man seemed to finally fall asleep.

Sirius stood up and retreated a step. Immediately, Pomfrey took over his place, reaching for Snape's neck once again. With an unhappy frown she registered the result, then took up the device for measuring the blood pressure and fastened it around the sick wizard's upper arm. Her facial expression darkened considerably when reading the numbers on the display.

"This doesn't look good. His heart is still racing even in his sleep. Whatever has caused this episode still puts his body under enormous stress. What exactly has happened, Mister Black?"

"I gave him the medicine as you told me. Then he started to convulse and scream as if under the Cruciatus."

Pomfrey nodded pensively. "And you gave him only two drops, as I told you?"

"Of course. I can count to two, you know," Sirius answered, slightly annoyed. If they now started accusing him, they would be sorry, extremely sorry.

"I understand," answered the Mediwitch in a drawl. She gazed at the still slightly shivering Snape, frowning. With a sigh, Pomfrey cautiously freed his legs from the sheets, in which he had entangled himself during the fit, and covered him up to his chest. She then looked at Dumbledore, concern in her eyes. "Can I speak with you for a moment, Albus, outside?"

He nodded and stood up, gazing at the sleeping wizard one last time.

Sirius followed them out of the room.

The door had barely closed again, when Pomfrey turned to address them.

"I don't want to risk that Severus can hear us. He should be asleep, but I have no first-hand experience on how these Muggle drugs work exactly. I have to rely solely on the directions that go with the medicine, some Muggle books, and the few things I have learned so far."

"Please, come to the point," grumbled Sirius. His muscles were sore, he was frustrated and thoroughly drenched with sweat, his own and Snape's as well, and he wanted to take a shower as soon as possible, preferably before he began to contemplate that last detail too much. It was disgusting enough as it was.

Pomfrey's face hardened when she commenced explaining.

"I don't know for sure what caused those cramps, but I have a theory. Last time, this didn't happen. I thought that it would work better this time because Severus isn't as weak as before thanks to the fluids he has received through the IV. Unfortunately, the fit has totally annihilated the effect and his heart is extremely weakened and still under enormous stress." She glanced over at the headmaster regretfully. "Albus, if this stress doesn't decrease over the next few hours, I fear he won't survive the night. His heart cannot put up with this much longer. His circulatory system is being strained far too much. I don't want to sound overly pessimistic, but the truth is that you better be prepared for the worst."

Albus nodded full of consternation. "You said you had a theory why he reacted so violently this time but 'only' passed out last time?"

"I believe Mr. Black wasn't that far from the mark with his assumption."

"Pardon? I don't recall having stated any assumptions at all," Sirius threw in.

"Yes, you did," insisted the Mediwitch. "You said that it looked as if Severus were under the Cruciatus. I think you were quite right here."

Sirius raised his hands in denial. "I didn't do anything ..."

Pomfrey managed a weak smile. "No, of course, you didn't. It's rather that the curse Severus was subjected to reacts to magic. Probably, the curse not only used the magic of the healing potion against him, but also the magic of some earlier curse. To perform the Cruciatus, very powerful magic has to be summoned, and it remains inside the victim's body for quite some time, even if you don't feel it anymore. My theory is that what we just witnessed was the echo of a previous Crucio, but thus magnified by the curse and the potion that it hit Severus as if he actually was under the Cruciatus again."

"But why now? Why not the first time you gave him the potion?" asked Dumbledore.

"I believe the dosage was too weak. I gave him only one drop back then."

"This would mean that Severus was tortured with the Cruciatus shortly before we found him," murmured Dumbledore to himself, adding one more detail to a mental list of observations.

"Not necessarily. The curse might have been applied quite some time ago already. As I said, the magic it releases stays within the victim's body for weeks."

"And what to do now, Poppy?" asked Dumbledore dejectedly.

Pomfrey gave an encouraging smile. "There is a Muggle drug I can give Severus that will help support his heart. Otherwise, we can only hope that the residual magic of the curse will fade out soon so that the pressure on his heart will decrease in time. It's his only chance."

Depressed silence followed the statement. Then Sirius cleared his throat. "I'm going to take a shower, if that's okay for you?"

Pomfrey nodded. "Of course. Just do that. And then you should rest a while. I'm going to wash Severus and change the bandages, and for the time being I'll stay here to check on him. We will call on you when we have to leave again."

Albus tiredly rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I will think of something to tell the Aurors, but I won't desert Severus again. I'll stay here, no matter how things are going to turn out. I'll fight for his life, and if nothing can be done after all, then I won't let him die alone."

Dumbledore spoke with determination. His voice, however, was old and withered. Once again, Sirius asked himself what on earth it was that the man saw in the slimy Slytherin. It was way beyond his comprehension, but for some reason or other, Dumbledore seemed to genuinely like the greasy git.

Sirius watched Pomfrey and the headmaster re-enter the room. Then he sighed and started on his way to the bathroom.

T.B.C.

Translated by Persephone Lupin.

Betaed by Slytherin's silver snake and Sadistra


	49. More Catastrophes

Chapter 48:

_More Catastrophes_

-----

Somebody gently shook his shoulder. "Sirius, wake up."

The Gryffindor tried to ignore the obtrusive voice. He was still tired and wasn't in the least inclined to leave the comfort of the soft blanket, under which he was buried, just yet.

"Why don't you let me sleep? Go away," he mumbled grumpily.

A soft laugh reached his sleepy ears. "Time to get up, my boy. It's your turn again to look after Severus."

Eventually, those words seeped into Sirius's brain and he groaned loudly whilst burying his head under a soft pillow to shut out his surroundings.

"That doesn't help, my young friend. You won't escape your task any time soon, I fear. Come, my lad, get up. I just put on some fresh coffee for you."

The headmaster's voice sounded much too cheerful this early in the morning, in Sirius' opinion. However, the Animagus liked the idea of a steaming cup of coffee.

He disentangled his head from the pillow and stared morosely at the broadly grinning Dumbledore. "I take it that Snap's still alive and kicking, then?"

Dumbledore nodded. "His heart finally calmed down. He's weakened, but he's also stable. Are you coming?"

"Do I have a choice?" grumbled Sirius surely. He struggled to the edge of the bed and sat up, yawning. "Is there really nobody else who could ...?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "No, my boy, there's nobody. If there were, I wouldn't have asked you to do it. Tomorrow, however, I'm going to the Ministry to try to get the Aurors removed from the school. As soon as this is accomplished, Poppy and us others will take over, but not before."

Sirius sighed discontentedly. "But Pomfrey has washed him and changed the bandages, hasn't she?"

"Yes, of course. You only need to look after him from time to time and keep an eye on his vital signs. Poppy gave him some powerful drugs, and most likely he'll sleep for another couple of hours. You don't need to do anything before he awakes. Severus should eat a little to regain his strength, then."

It took Sirius a few seconds to process the implication. "You want me to feed him?"

"He can't use his hands, so …yes."

Sirius glared at Dumbledore in shock. The old wizard couldn't be serious. He had already humiliated himself by bathing Snape, but, much to Sirius' relief, the man had been unconscious during _that_ joyful procedure.

"Albus, you cannot demand this of me," he pleaded.

Sighing softly, Dumbledore sat down beside him on the edge of the bed. "Sirius, please."

Sirius groaned inwardly at the intense gaze from the headmaster's blue eyes. He couldn't possibly deny his plea when he looked at him like this. Dumbledore obviously had no idea what he was asking of him. Snape would go ballistic if he tried to feed him, or he would put on this arrogant sneer of his and act as if Sirius was his personal slave who only existed to pamper his whims. Damn, Snape would thoroughly enjoy this. It would provide him with prime ammunition to constantly mock him. The greasy git would use the knowledge about how Sirius had humiliated himself to blackmail him whenever this would gain him an advantage. Hadn't he done so with Lupin when Remus was still teaching? However, there was no way this would work with him, he decided. He would turn the tables before Snape could even begin to play his little games.

-----------------

For the first time in many days, waking up wasn't a painful experience for Severus. He felt as if a heavy and numbing blanket was covering his body, making any attempt at moving absolutely impossible.

He forced his leaden eyelids open. The room was all blurry until it finally came into focus. His mouth was so dry it felt as if it was stuffed with cotton.

He was alone in the room and was more than grateful for it. The last thing he remembered clearly was a wave of excruciating pain engulfing his entire being, a pain similar to the Cruciatus. The rest was mere shreds and pieces of pictures and voices; Poppy, Albus, and Black had been there and had held him down while talking at him all the time.

The sensation of lying in a nest of soft pillows felt unreal to him. Much of what had happened those last days and weeks seemed fragmented and hazy. The torture, however, was all too real in his memory. How the children had been killed and that he, in the end, had humiliated himself in front of Malfoy and Voldemort. He was thoroughly disgusted by himself. He had tortured and killed so many people in his life, so why had those children gotten to him so much?

Malfoy had shown him how worthless and helpless he really was, the ultimate aim of all the torture inflicted upon him being to wear him down and to make him vulnerable to this one lesson; he was well aware of this. And the climax of it all was how they had just dumped him on a pile of rotting corpses like one would a piece of trash.

He wasn't there any longer, though. He was safe. Only, the feelings were still there, the fear, the shame and the deep meaninglessness of his life. Severus had allowed them to break him, and he despised and loathed himself for it. What a joke he was. Ever since he was born, he had never possessed enough backbone to achieve something all by himself; he had been taken advantage of by pretty much everybody. Even now he was being taken advantage of, when he had sworn to defend the last remnants of his pride with his life. The horrible memories were still holding him in their iron grip and combined with reality again and again, triggering an automatic response to Black's voice whenever the Animagus used words similar to Malfoy's and effectively depriving him of any form of control. And the worst was that Black was here to revel in his weakness. He just couldn't bear his childhood enemy, the one besides Potter he had yearned to prove himself to most, watching how pathetic he was.

Damn, he didn't want Black to nurse him. Hadn't they embarrassed him enough already? Severus struggled to lift his arms and eventually managed the task although his limbs seemed to be more than double their normal weight. With disdain, he noticed the tube of a Muggle IV disappearing beneath a bandage on the inner side of his right elbow. Poppy sometimes fell back upon those methods when a patient wasn't conscious enough to swallow potions, but Severus knew that, in his case, it was because his body didn't tolerate any healing draughts. He had seen painful proof of it only hours ago. His hands were heavily bandaged, reminding him of the ugly wounds they were hiding and of the terrible agony those wounds had caused when they had been inflicted upon him. He shuddered at the memory. At the moment, however, this pain, as well as the pain in his shoulders that had burned like fire with every movement or strain ever since he was brought here, had quietened into a dull pounding ache.

Severus gazed at the slightly opened door. Surely, Black would reappear soon to gloat at him in his weakness, but he wouldn't let him if he could somehow prevent it.

Carefully, he lowered his legs from the pillow they rested upon and manoeuvred them over the edge of the bed; letting his feet drop to the floor. The burns caused merely a faintly throbbing ache, not more, and with renewed hope he tried to sit up. However, as soon as he had lifted his head from the pillows, he was hit by a wave of nausea that made him sink back onto the mattress, groaning in exasperation.

The room seemed to spin around rapidly and he had the feeling that, directly behind his eyes, somebody was pounding his skull with a sledgehammer while cold sweat broke out on his forehead. Severus forced himself to breathe deeply to regain some orientation. His left arm he flung across his eyes to be better able to fight the dizziness, when suddenly he sensed that something, besides the feeling of vertigo, was amiss. It took some time for the room to stop spinning and the pounding in his head to diminish somewhat so he could concentrate enough to find out what exactly felt so wrong. He let his arm drop to his side again. His head still felt strange, though; it was too light, and when a chilling draft of air hit the sweaty skin of his neck he realized what it was. All his life, Severus had had long hair, except for this one time when the Weasley twins had singed his black locks so badly that he had had to cut them. Of course, he had magically let them grow back to their usual length immediately, but he could still remember the unfamiliar sensation of air hitting his exposed ears and neck. Even on the odd occasion when he gathered his hair into a ponytail there wasn't this feeling of nakedness. This could mean only one thing. His long hair was gone. Severus couldn't remember Malfoy clipping it, but he chased away those thoughts after only seconds. He had more pressing problems to think about at the moment than his hair, one being how to get out of bed without collapsing and hitting his nose in another dizzy spell.

"Where do you think you're going, Snape?"

Black. Severus shut his eyes, completely exhausted.

The Gryffindor entered the room and came over to his bed. "Now, don't tell me you don't like the room service here. Want to run, eh?"

"Get lost, Black," Severus murmured while trying hard to stare down the Animagus. He would have blushed if he hadn't been so dizzy. Why was it that Black had to see him right now when he was looking weaker than ever?

"You are repeating yourself, Snape. However, you won't get rid of me that soon."

Black roughly grabbed Severus' legs, propped them back up on the pillow and, without asking whether or not the Slytherin wanted it, covered them with the blanket.

"Madame Pomfrey gave you some strong pain-killers. Muggle stuff. As long as those are in your system, they'll make you too dizzy to even think of getting up. However, you can't go without them yet because of the pain. So, you better stop this and try to not make both our lives more difficult than they already are."

Severus just couldn't stand the Gryffindor's patronizing tone. All he wanted was for Black to leave him alone and disappear. For a minute, Sirius looked down on him as if he were something slimy and disgusting he had just stepped onto. Then, to Severus' surprise and without uttering a word, Black turned on his heels and left the sickroom.

Severus' respite from his childhood nemesis lasted only a few minutes, which he spent staring disheartened at the ceiling. He couldn't even leave his bed alone. How pathetic. Not for the first time, he wished they had just let him die.

With a tray in his hands, Black re-entered the room. He set his burden down on the small round table and shoved it closer to the bed. Severus ignored whatever he did and stubbornly glared at the Gryffindor.

"Pomfrey said you should try to get some food into you when you wake up," Black said with as much enthusiasm as a student talking about an upcoming exam. Severus surveyed the plate and the glass of water, trying hard not to stare too longingly at the food. He was terribly thirsty and the sight of the water made him dry-swallow painfully while, although the plate held nothing but a clear broth, his stomach began to rumble audibly.

With an abrupt jerk, he pulled his gaze away from the plate, but Black had already noticed and barked a laugh. Severus felt hot blood shooting up into his cheeks. Again, he had managed to humiliate himself in front of Black.

"Looks as if you were indeed hungry. Just say 'please' like a good boy, and I'll help you eat." Black's voice was almost dripping with mockery.

Severus focused on the anger that rose in his chest and mixed with the shame. Anger he could handle, but shame was impossible to bear.

"I already told you, Black. I don't need your bloody help," he growled, lowering his head and glaring up at the Gryffindor. If he had still had his long hair, a curtain of black strands would have half-covered his face making his dark eyes appear even more threatening. The effect of this well practised movement was made to naught, however.

Black only grinned at him arrogantly; apparently, he was thoroughly enjoying every minute of seeing Severus helpless and vulnerable. Exactly as it used to be in school.

Ignoring Severus' protest, Black sat down on the edge of the bed in a mock-motherly gesture. He took the plate and the spoon, watching Snape intently while doing so. "Why, Snivelly, such harsh words when all I want is to help you. I'm deeply hurt now."

Severus couldn't bear Black's tone any longer. He tried to convince himself that the Gryffindor's sickening self-importance made him angry. However, it wasn't anger that made his chest constrict and caused his heart to beat faster. It was the complete helplessness of his situation. Black could do just everything to him, and it seemed as if he enjoyed it exactly as much as Malfoy had enjoyed it only a few days ago.

And there was nothing he could do.

With a self-satisfied smile, Black filled the spoon with soup, blew on it, and then held it up to Severus' mouth.

"Come on, Snivellus. Be a good boy. I promise it won't be as hot as to burn your precious lips."

Severus felt like exploding any minute.

"Get out of here, Black, damn you. I'd rather starve than accept your help."

The smirk on Black's face vanished and his expression darkened. "You have no idea at all what being hungry really means, do you, Snape? For twelve long years, I had to endure going without food for days on end, again and again, not knowing whether they finally had forgotten about me or whether there would be anyone to open the door to my prison cell ever again. Don't you make such a fuss now, Snivellus."

How dare the blasted Gryffindor compare his time with Malfoy to Azkaban, Severus thought bitterly, as a new wave of anger surged through him. Rather a hundred years of Azkaban than ...

"Don't start whining now, Black. Don't you get it? I want you to get lost. I didn't ask for you to be here. I CAN MANAGE ON MY OWN, DAMN YOU!"

The very moment he shouted these words into the Gryffindor's face he knew how pathetic they sounded. With his hands heavily bandaged he wouldn't have been able to feed on his own even if his palms hadn't been pierced and mutilated. However, this wasn't important right now. He would rather go without food than have to endure Black's arrogance. Thanks to the IV, he wouldn't starve or die of thirst any time soon, and he could ignore the nagging hunger as well as he could the parched feeling in his mouth and throat.

"So, you can manage on your own, Snivelly?" Sirius barked while jumping to his feet. He let the spoon drop back onto the plate with a clatter and grabbed Snape's left arm, lifting his bandaged hand to the plate. "Why don't you hold this yourself, then?"

Severus stared at Black wide-eyed, his anger giving way to anxious helplessness. What was the idiot thinking of? How on earth was he supposed to hold the plate like this?

Black tried to press Severus' fingers around the rim of the plate. Then he grabbed Severus' right arm and placed his other hand around the plate as well before stepping aside.

The plate now balanced between Severus' numb hands, swaying precariously, while the soup was swirling around dangerously. Severus desperately tried to get a better hold on the plate, but his injured hands didn't obey him, and his forearms seemed to grow weaker with the second. With rising panic, he watched the plate slide to one side, and when he tried to grab it more firmly, it completely slipped from his fingers showering him, his blanket and the sheets with the hot liquid when it turned over and dropped onto his chest.

Severus fought back the tears stinging his eyes. Tears that hadn't anything to do with the hot soup burning his skin. He was hardly aware of the pain.

"You bloody bastard!" he shouted at the man standing opposite from him. No, Black must never ever see him cry. That would be the final straw. "I'll personally see to that you'll be delivered to the Dementors and receive the Kiss, and if it's the last thing I'll ever do in this life, I swear!" Severus didn't care that he had just threatened Sirius with worse than death. At the moment, he loathed Black with as much venom as he loathed Voldemort and Malfoy.

Black snorted. "It's solely your own fault, Snape. Ever since you woke up, you are behaving like the greasy git you are. Not the slightest sign of gratitude. You people are always the same. All of you!"

Shouting those last words, Black stormed out of the room, banging the door shut behind him.

-----------------------------

Hundreds of spectators jumped up from their seats in the Quidditch stadium, gasping as Isabelle Laroth, the new Ravenclaw Seeker, suddenly took a sharp turn to the right and raced towards the far end of the pitch where a bunch of students clad in blue and white were shouting in joy.

"Laroth seems to have sighted the Snitch. She's racing across the playground at neck-breaking speed while Malfoy is still fighting with White at the other end of the pitch!" echoed the voice of the announcer through the magical microphone.

"Malfoy, you complete git. You are supposed to search for the Snitch and not jostle your opponents!" Ron's voice was already hoarse from shouting, and now, he angrily shook his fist at the Slytherin Seeker, who tried to free himself from the angry Ravenclaw Beater just a few meters above their heads.

When he finally succeeded and raced after the other Seeker, Isabelle was leaning forward on her broom, her face screwed up in concentration, and grabbed for something Ron couldn't quite make out from the distance.

The ranks of Ravenclaws erupted with cheers when Laroth held something small and golden high above her head in triumph.

At the sight of the Snitch in her hand, the Gryffindors started groaning while the Slytherins loudly protested the result.

"Damn! Now we don't have the slightest chance to win the Cup this year," Harry complained disappointedly.

The rare occasion of Gryffindors siding with Slytherin was due to the fact that Ravenclaw, so far, was the only House to win all their games. Gryffindor had lost against Slytherin, while Hufflepuff had beaten the latter. If Ravenclaw had lost today's game, it would have been a tie, and Gryffindor would have won by total points scored.

"Try to look at it positively," said Hermione. "We are still better than Slytherin, and that they lost against Hufflepuff must have hurt a lot. It probably still hurts."

"I bet, Snape's gonna freak out when he hears about it," said Ron with a smile that quickly disappeared from his freckled face again. "Sorry, guys," he added somewhat dejectedly.

After what had happened not long ago, the topic 'Snape' had become a delicate issue, and even Ron's open antipathy towards the teacher was combined with feelings of guilt.

"We should go inside," said Hermione after an uncomfortable moment of silence. "It's getting cold. Colin and Ginny have already left."

"That has hardly anything to do with the weather," Ron grumbled morosely. It was common knowledge that he wasn't exactly happy about his sister's new boyfriend. In Ron's opinion, Colin was still much too childish to have a serious relationship.

"Don't be such a spoilsport," Hermione scolded. "The two of them are in love, that's obvious."

"Yeah, sure. At least for this one month."

"Ron, you sometimes are as romantic as a plank," Hermione groaned, rolling her eyes in exasperation.

As they, together with a bunch of equally disappointed Gryffindors, stepped onto the lawn passing two Aurors, Harry saw Albus Dumbledore talking with Hagrid in the shadows of the stand.

"Look. Over there."

"Hagrid seems to be worried," Hermione observed as she came walking up to Harry's side together with Ron.

"Wonder what they are talking about?" asked the redhead.

"Let's find out, Ron. Hermione?" Harry started to walk towards the Professors.

"Oh, hey 'arry," greeted Hagrid upon seeing them, a rather forced smile on his face. "The headmaster jus' told me 'bout Professor Snape and that Sirius is tak'n care of him."

So, this was what was worrying the gamekeeper. Actually, everybody seemed to be rather anxious about this arrangement, everybody except Dumbledore. However, Harry had the feeling that there was more to the story. Usually, the half-giant trusted Dumbledore's judgement blindly, and he had rarely found Hagrid's face not lighten up as soon as he saw his young Gryffindor friends, even if he was troubled by something.

"Are you ok, Hagrid?" he asked.

"I ... Well ..." He cast Dumbledore a quick glance before nervously scratching his head. "I'm jus' worried 'bout what happen'd to Professor Snape, you know, with You Know Who an' stuff."

Harry arched his eyebrow indicating that he didn't believe the half-giant's explanation.

"Severus was having a rather troubled night. But he's better now."

Harry looked at the headmaster, whose voice sounded uncharacteristically tired. There were dark circles around his eyes, and his complexion was rather pale. Nonetheless, Dumbledore was smiling cheerfully. He Probably remembered the last time he had tried to keep something secret from Harry and now didn't want to repeat the mistake.

"What happened?" asked Hermione.

"Severus reacted badly to the second dose of the healing potion. But, as I said, he is better now. I want to find out what curse used on him as quick as possible. Unfortunately, I won't have much time the next days to complete my research. I have urgent business with the Ministry. I hope, Severus will remember the curse and thus be able to help us. Poppy, Remus and Minerva are informed. They will look after him during my absence and ask him about the curse as soon as he feels a bit better."

"And if he cannot remember? He was unconscious when we found him. Perhaps Voldemort cursed him while he wasn't awake?"

"I strongly doubt that, Harry. Voldemort, for sure, wanted Severus to be aware of how he magically crippled him. If not, however, I'll have to rely on the old books I have gathered so far."

"We could help you with the books, couldn't we, Professor Dumbledore?" Hermione blurted out. Her face virtually glowed with enthusiasm, and Harry wasn't sure whether this was because she would finally be able to help or rather because of the prospect of being allowed to read through those rare old tomes.

Dumbledore seemed to consider the proposition while stroking his beard leisurely. "Hmm, I'm not sure. I'm almost done anyway. Originally, I intended to skim through the last one last night, but Severus ..." His gaze clouded over and darkened with concern. However, he quickly snapped out of his heavy thoughts and focused his attention on his students again. "In any case. The books are not for children's hands. They are all about Dark magic, since there is no question about that this was a very Dark curse. I couldn't allow students to read those, not even so bright ones as you, Miss Granger."

This didn't seem to sit well with Ron, however. "Have you, by any chance, noticed what we've been through over the last five years, sir? Especially Harry? Do you really think we would be impressed by some books about Dark magic?"

"I must admit you have a point here, Mr Weasley," answered Dumbledore with a soft chuckle. "All right, as you wish. I'll leave the last book with Hagrid so you will be able to get it from him with the help of your Invisibility cloak.

"But," he lifted his finger admonishingly, "you must not be seen by the Aurors with such a book. You could be expelled by the Ministry and the Board of school governors. Hide it well, children, and return it as soon as you are through with it."

"Of course, headmaster." Hermione beamed with anticipation.

On the way back to the castle, when they were safely out of Dumbledore's earshot, Ron snorted loudly. "Does the old man really believe we'd be scared by some old tomes? Ridiculous."

"I hope, mate, you're aware of that you and your protest just got us to spend all night with a book?" Harry asked with a twisted smile.

Ron's mouth fell open and he stopped in his tracks, thoroughly shocked. "Shit, I never even thought of that."

* * *

T.B.C.

Translated by Persephone Lupin

Betaed by Slytherin's silver snake and Sadistra.

Since I'm being a real modest person, just like any Slytherin would be (And yes, I do think I may be ending up there, I have part Slyth, part Hufflepuff in me) I will 'accidentally' let slip that I wanted to post this before my birthday tomorrow.

So for all the Gryffindors out there who are not adapt in the not so subtle but still finer mannerism of manipulation. I expect lot's of virtual cakes:-P

Something else: Who, do you all think is the half blood prince? I think it's not impossible for it to be Snape.


	50. Remus

Chapter 49:

_Remus _

Smiling with anticipation, Remus Lupin Apparated directly in front of his little house. In his life he had been doing a lot of travelling, but this place had always felt like 'home' to him. The fact that his best friend was here was an added bonus, and Snape's presence, even if it had been brought about by rather sad circumstances, didn't trouble him too much. It might even be a chance for the two Marauders and the Slytherin to make up for former injustice, and to finally come to an understanding after all these years.

Lupin folded his cloak more securely about his body. Autumn temperatures were already pretty chilly this year, promising early snowfall.

With hasty steps he hurried towards the entrance and pushed the door open. Locking and warding it was not necessary in the wilderness, and this was certainly one of the reasons why Remus was thriving here. It was a war-free zone with nothing but peace and quiet waiting for him.

"Sirius?" echoed his voice through the entrance hall as he closed the door. "Where are you, Padfoot?"

Instead of an answer, he heard a clinking sound from the direction of the kitchen.

Taking a left turn, he approached the small room and saw a very upset Sirius picking up the shards of a cup from the stone floor while swearing continuously under his breath. "... was solely his fault. Bloody bastard. To threaten me with the authorities. He'd soon find out who'd hand over whom ..."

"Sirius?"

The Animagus jumped when hearing Remus' anxious voice, and let the broken pieces of crockery drop to the floor again.

"Gosh! Must you scare me out of my mind, Moony?" he said accusingly to his friend. Then, he bent down to pick up the shards a second time.

Remus helped him with the task.

"What happened, Padfoot? You are totally beside yourself," he observed.

Sirius snorted. "Go ask the greasy git. With his bloody arrogance, the slimy bastard always manages to make me hit the roof sooner or later. Imagine, he even had the cheek to threaten me with Azkaban."

Remus slowly shook his head. He had not expected things to go smooth with both Sirius and Severus in the same house, especially not in a situation like this with one totally helpless and the other forced to take care of him. Too bad they did not have a choice here.

"Calm down, Sirius. Albus is going to talk to Fudge this very afternoon. If everything goes well, the Aurors will soon be removed from the school."

"The sooner the better, or I won't be able to guarantee the bastard's life," grumbled Sirius.

Lupin put an arm around his friend's shoulder and steered him towards one of the four wooden chairs surrounding the kitchen table. With an expression between rage and resignation, Sirius let himself be pushed into the chair.

In a soothing gesture, Remus patted his shoulder. He got the teapot and two clean mugs from out of the cupboard and filled them with the steaming liquid. One mug he set down in front of Sirius, and then he walked around the table and dropped into the chair opposite his friend.

When Sirius grabbed his mug with both hands and carefully took some sips, the boiling anger slowly seemed to dissipate.

"Better?" asked Remus.

Sirius nodded, looking the werewolf straight in the eyes. "Why does the blasted Slytherin always do this, Remus? Why on earth can't he behave civilly just once in his life? As if it was my fault that I'm condemned to help him."

Remus smiled faintly. "I guess you haven't been the epitome of friendliness yourself, am I not right?"

Sirius snorted once again. "After all, I'm the one who has to do all the chores and mother him. It's he who should show a bit of gratitude, not I. Can you imagine, Albus even wanted me to _spoon-feed_ Snape."

Remus screwed up his face at the thought. "Bet you weren't exactly over-enthusiastic about it, were you? How did you manage to make him cooperate?"

At this question, Sirius bit his lip and lowered his gaze; a gesture Remus had seen so often when his friend felt guilty about something.

"You did talk him into cooperating, didn't you?" Lupin inquired somewhat sharply.

"It really wasn't my fault. He would only have used it against me."

Remus had to strain his ears to be able to hear the whispered words, however, they were loud enough to make him groan in exasperation. "I'll go see if I can do something about it, then," he sighed. He'd probably manage to keep his calm and convince Snape of the necessity of the procedure better than Sirius.

"Uhm, Remus ..." Sirius said hesitantly, while nervously running a finger around the rim of his mug. "There was a minor accident ... Nothing serious, really, but Snape might not be very happy to see you right now."

"What on earth have the two of you been up to yet again?"

Shaking his head and sighing again, Remus rose from his chair and climbed the stairs to the upper floor. Remus did not know what to expect, but after what he and Minerva had heard from the headmaster, Snape had had to swallow quite a bit and was far from in good shape.

When he reached the door, he stopped for a moment and took in a deep breath. It was not hard to believe that Snape would not be happy to see him, since Severus still carried a grudge against him because of the Shrieking Shack incident back when they were still in school. As a werewolf, he had come close to biting or even killing the Slytherin that night. That the whole thing had been Sirius' idea and that he had not had any part in the planning did not matter to the Slytherin. He was angry beyond reason because his pride had been hurt. Plus, it was James of all people who had rescued him. Snape pictured himself a victim of all four of the Marauders, no matter what the truth.

Reluctantly, Remus opened the door and entered the sickroom, fully expecting Snape to yell at him as soon as he stuck his head through the entrance. However, he was greeted by silence.

"Severus?"

"Sod off."

Remus stopped short. Snape's voice was uncharacteristically hoarse and strained, instead of smooth and silky. Never before had he heard the Slytherin like this.

The view that unfolded before him when approaching the bed made Remus take in a sharp breath. Snape was lying on his right side, dangerously close to the edge of the bed, his left arm limply dangling over, his face pressed into the pillows. The blanket and his hospital-gown that was open in the back for easier handling of the sick were crumpled and had slid sideways, leaving the man only partly covered. Beside a broken glass and a tray, a turned-over plate was lying in a puddle of liquid on the floor.

Remus would have thought the Potions master unconscious had he not heard him speak just a few seconds before.

"Merlin's beard, Severus," he exclaimed, hurrying to the bed. Avoiding the mess on the floor as much as possible, he bent down, carefully grabbed the man by his shoulders and rolled him onto his back.

Snape did not react and his eyes were clenched shut. Only his mouth twisted slightly from the pain as Remus applied pressure to his shoulders.

What in Merlin's name had happened here? Had Sirius just left the food on the bedside table for Snape to eat all by himself, fully aware of that this was absolutely impossible, and the half-starved wizard had tried to manage on his own? However, this scenario hardly explained why Snape's nightgown and all the sheets around his chest were drenched with soup.

"Severus?" Remus asked, trying to get the injured wizard's attention. He was rewarded by a puffy-eyed glare that almost looked as if Snape had cried.

"Get lost, you bloody werewolf," he hissed, but without much force.

"What happened, Severus?" Remus coaxed, ignoring the man's insult.

"Ask the mutt," Snape barked, eyes flashing with rage and lips curling menacingly as he seemed to wake up from his stupor.

For a few seconds, Remus surveyed the Slytherin pensively. Something had happened here, and he started to feel increasingly doubtful about it being solely Severus' fault that the soup had spilled and the glass and plate had dropped to the floor.

"I will," he answered calmly. And that was exactly what he was going to do now.

"That's all right with me," came an angry snarl from the direction of the door. Snape's expression hardened instantly even though he did not look at the new arrival.

Slightly accusingly, Remus gazed at his friend who was casually leaning against the doorframe, wrinkling his nose in disdain and glaring venomously.

"We can talk later. First of all, we better clean you up some, Severus." Again, he scanned the Potions master for any visible reaction, but the man only pressed his mouth into a thin, hard line. "Sirius, please bring some water and a cloth to wipe the floor. I'll take care of Severus."

With a last condescending glance at Snape, Sirius disappeared.

Breathing deeply, Remus put a hand on Severus' shoulder, immediately registering the faint quiver of the man's body. Of course, he would be cold from lying soaked and partly without covers for quite some time; how long he could only guess.

"It'll be easier if I got you out of the bed, Severus. The sheets have to be changed anyway. Do you want me to get a chair for you, or shall I help you to the bathroom?"

Remus knew exactly how thrilled Snape must be about having to accept help from both him and Sirius of all people, and therefore he tried to give the man the opportunity to make a conscious choice.

"Why would I care? As long as it's as far away from the mutt as possible. But you'll hardly do me that favour."

As expected, Severus was totally oblivious to the fact that Remus only tried to make things easier for him. Or he simply refused to notice. Sirius, who was entering the room the very moment, carrying a bucket with water, heard the answer and snorted loudly, but did not comment.

"I really am sorry, Severus," Remus said, "but we cannot leave you lying soaking wet like this until Poppy's coming back. You're already shivering from the cold. Just concentrate on the thought that Albus is going to talk to the Ministry to finally get rid of the Aurors and that Poppy will be able to take over soon, okay?"

The sarcastic retort Remus was waiting for never came. Severus only kept staring at a distinct spot in mid-air as if he had not heard Remus' words at all. The werewolf sighed deeply and looked up at Sirius who, bucket still in hand, stared down at Snape, frowning. "Sirius, please help me take him downstairs to the bathroom, will you?"

Even when Remus removed the drenched blanket and placed one arm beneath his knees and the other one under his shoulders, swinging him into a sitting position at the edge of the bed, Snape still showed no sign of being aware of what was going on. He had only closed his eyes again.

Remus waited a few minutes to give the injured wizard some time to adjust to the upright position while he rearranged the nightshirt to at least preserve some of Snape's dignity. The hospital-gown was a necessity, but Remus was well aware of that it only added to the feeling of humiliation a man like Severus Snape must experience in a situation like this. The Potions Master, however, did not seem to give it a single thought as he was panting heavily, all blood drained from his face.

"The dizziness will soon abate, Severus," Remus tried to console him.

In the meantime, Sirius had put down the bucket and came over to the bed. His face not betraying any emotion, he studied Snape for a while.

"Sirius?" Remus interrupted his scrutiny. The loathing that had been prominent in his friend's eyes only minutes ago had given way to an expression, almost as if Sirius seriously contemplated on something for once. When the Animagus looked at him, Remus arched his eyebrow questioningly, but Sirius waved away the silent question. "Let's get him downstairs," he said instead, plucking the IV bag from its hook above Snape's head.

"Okay, Severus, let's go," encouraged Remus, and together with Sirius, he grabbed the Potions master under his arms and pulled him to his feet.

Snape's eyes shot open and he barely managed to suppress a cry of agony.

"His feet," cautioned Remus, "watch his feet." To keep as much pressure off his burned feet as possible, they lifted Snape's arms around their shoulders only to make him groan even louder when they did so, a thin layer of sweat forming on his brow.

"Severus, what's wrong?" Remus asked with concern.

"Shoulders," Snape gritted out through clenched teeth, struggling for breath.

"Damn." Remus hesitated only for a second, and then lowered Snape's arm from his shoulder. He drew him closer and, without much ado, lifted him into his arms.

Snape was trembling invisibly and his breath still came in strained gasps while he clenched his eyes shut in pain and humiliation. "No ..." he ground out, panting.

"Don't worry, Severus. I'll watch your injuries."

In spite of the reassuring words, the Potions Master began to struggle weakly against the werewolf.

"Damn, stop it, Snape!" Sirius barked and instantly, Severus' movements died down.

"Let's go downstairs at last", said Remus with relief and began to descend the stairs, closely followed by Sirius, who still held the IV bag. He had to concentrate hard to not trip with the unfamiliar burden in his arms. Although Snape had always been on the thin side and now, after his imprisonment, was much too light for a man of his stature, he was still a few inches taller than the Gryffindor, and Remus was not exactly heavily built, either.

Luckily, they made it to the bathroom without accident, and Remus set Snape carefully down on the lid of the toilet. Putting his hands supportively on the Potions master's shoulders, he straightened up. Snape stared angrily straight ahead, clenching his mouth tightly shut in suppressed rage.

"Sorry that I had to carry you, Severus, but that way it was much easier on your injuries," Remus apologized slightly embarrassed. He was painfully aware of how much Snape must hate being carried around by the werewolf like a little child.

"Stop apologizing, Remus," Sirius cut in. "Don't you see how much the arrogant git enjoys having us act as his personal slaves?" The Animagus' voice was dripping with mockery, but while uttering the spiteful words, he watched Snape intently and with seriousness.

Remus glared at him. "Sirius, why don't you stop spouting unhelpful snide remarks for once?"

Sirius, did not react to Remus' warning, but continued watching his childhood enemy. Snape had tensed at Sirius' words, however, it took him a few seconds to swallow and then turn around to the Animagus, whose lips promptly curled into a sneer.

"You're an idiot, Black. Leave me alone," Snape said in a dangerously low voice, his eyes flashing with rage.

"Just cut it out. Can't you act like the adults you are for a change?" Remus interrupted the two opponents. "By the way, what's wrong with your shoulders, Severus? Poppy couldn't detect any injuries there."

Snape hesitated briefly before hissing at Remus, "That's hardly of any interest now, is it?"

Remus forced himself to keep his calm. Between Sirius' and Severus' behaviour, he started to feel like locked up in a lunatic asylum. "Please, Severus. Poppy told me to ask you about it."

"I dislocated them, and they were magically healed," he finally said with an expression of disgust. "The residual pain is, most probably, by courtesy of the curse."

"Don't worry, Albus will find a counter-curse, Severus. Try to be patient."

Remus hesitated for a moment. He did not want to take advantage of the situation, however, he might actually have a chance right now to elicit some detail about his imprisonment and his capturers' methods of torture from Snape without asking directly.

"How did you dislocate your shoulders?"

"That doesn't concern you, werewolf," snarled Snape, closing off the topic effectively.

Remus shook his head in regret. Severus was not someone who would talk about any defeat he had suffered. And certainly not in front of one of the Marauders. Nevertheless, it was not difficult to imagine what had transpired. You could easily dislocate a joint when losing all bodily control under the Cruciatus and falling down somewhere or smashing into something. Only that the residual magic of one single healing spell would cause so much pain seemed hard to believe. They better found a counter-curse soon.

"Why bother, Remus? The git doesn't even notice when someone just wants to help," Sirius threw in, instantly earning himself a death-glare from Severus. "Why don't we get it over with at last. I can think of more enjoyable pastimes than wiping spilled food off of Snape."

T.B.C.

A/N Sorry if this chapter is short, but I had to cut it and make two chapters out of it due to its length. 

I just had the most wonderful, fun weekend in a long time. I was at a meeting of several Severus Snape-fanfic fans and it was so great. It took place in Switzerland and we were participants from Switzerland, Austria and Germany. There was one girl whose drawings of Severus took everyone's breath away. It's amazing what she is doing. I hope you all will get to see her work sometimes. I'll make sure to post the link, once Angel, (the host and a great friend of mine) will put up some pictures of the meeting, and hopefully of her drawings on her site. Murasaki, the artist has a great talent. Hmm, that reminds me that I still have to write to her tonight, since she will maybe illustrate a later scene of this fic. I have to send her that written part though, because it's not yet in the published parameters:-P I can only tell you that it will have Sirius and Severus in it:-D At the meeting I answered one question about the further plot of 'of killers and traitors' to the other girls. They agreed to the question: "Will Snape be alright in the end of the fic?" If you gals want, I can answer the same question to you. But beware. You may be a bit disappointed by the answer I gave them and will also give you, if you want to know it too.

Translated by Persephone Lupin, betaed by Slytherin's silver snake and Sadistra.


	51. Shame and Frustration

Chapter 51:

_Shame and Frustration_

Damn, there never was a hole in the floor to hide in when you needed it most, thought Severus bitterly. This was probably the most humiliating situation he had ever had the misfortune to find himself in, including writhing on the floor in front of Malfoy with a leash around his neck.

At this thought, he instantly felt a knot forming in his stomach. No, it was not as bad as that. Nothing possibly was as bad as the fact that he had lost that fight. Absolutely nothing. He knew that there was not a thing in the world that could make up for this loss of self-respect. Did it really matter that he was not with Voldemort any longer? He was already dead. Ever since he had been brought here, his entire life was oscillating between pain, fear, anger and utter despair. Even his desperate attacks on Sirius were pitiful and pathetic, without any real vigour behind them.

He tore his gaze away from Black and suppressed his boundless rage. It would not help him anyway. Nothing would. They could do with him whatever they wanted to without him being able to stop them.

**"**Sirius, get some warm water, soap and a couple of towels,**"** he could hear Lupin say from above him before the werewolf bent down. **"**Severus? I'm helping you undress now, and then I'm going to remove the dirty bandages, okay?**"**

The knot in his stomach only grew tighter at Lupin's words. The werewolf's pity was even worse than Black's taunting. Pity was the very least thing he needed right now. Or ever. He was close to yelling at Lupin to leave him alone, however, the helplessness of his situation was suffocating every attempt at shouting before he could do as much as open his mouth.

Being undressed by Remus made his face grow hot with shame. He closed his eyes and retreated into the farthest corner of his consciousness in an attempt to block out everything around him as the wet night-shirt was pulled over his head.

Unpleasantly cool air hit his burning and, at the same time, freezing chest. Severus could hear Lupin gasp in surprise, but did not open his eyes. "Sirius, please come over here for a minute and look at that," the werewolf called unusually sternly.

Steps were approaching. "Looks like a sunburn to me."

"That's not funny, Padfoot. Not at all. This was caused by the hot soup, and you know it."

Normally, Severus would have enjoyed the accusing tone Lupin had used when addressing his friend, but at the moment he only tried to retreat farther into himself. He managed fairly well, and the oncoming weariness that seemed to reside deep inside his very bones, helped him sink into a trancelike semi-sleep that muffled the voices of his enemies to unintelligible murmurs until suddenly something wet and warm touched his face.

BLOOD!

His eyes shot open, wide with panic.

"Calm down, Severus. I only want to wash you."

Breathing rapidly, Severus tried to calm his frantically beating heart. He wasn't with Malfoy anymore. It was water that had touched him, not blood. Only water. Just Lupin, not Malfoy.

Remus put a hand on his shoulder in a reassuring gesture. "It'll be all right, Severus. You simply need some time. Perhaps you should try to stay awake, okay?"

Severus shook off the hand with an abrupt movement. What did the bloody werewolf think he was doing? He did not know a thing. Time would not change what they had done to him. It would not take away the shame nor the feeling of helpless despair.

"Shut up and do your job, werewolf," he snarled hoarsely.

A hurt expression crossed Lupin's face, but the Gryffindor suppressed it again almost instantly. Instead, he gave a curt nod and let the wet flannel drop into a bowl with water that was placed on the floor beside him.

The werewolf straightened and walked over to the sink at the other end of the room where Sirius was standing, hands buried in his pockets, eyes fixed on Snape, and scrutinizing the man with raised eyebrows. Severus answered Black's gaze by curling up his lips maliciously.

The tap was used and then Lupin came back holding out a half-filled glass of water to Severus. The liquid magically drew his gaze without him being able to hinder it. His already dry mouth felt even more parched and he swallowed painfully. He was terribly thirsty but admitting it would only give Black another victory. Therefore, he stubbornly decided to not let his craving show and refuse the water, but when Remus wordlessly lifted the glass to his lips, his body deceived him and his traitorous mouth opened on its own accord.

After the first drops of cool, delicious water had wetted his lips, he swallowed greedily. Only when the glass was empty, Lupin put it back down on the floor. Severus tilted back his head and sighed with relief while closing his eyes. The small amount of water had not nearly quenched his thirst, but the agonizing desire for something to drink had somewhat abated and his mouth did not feel as if he had eaten handfuls of sand anymore. Thus much had the overwhelming thirst become a constant torture that he almost felt like heaven now. At the same time, he felt like hell because he had, once again, lost another internal battle.

When somebody, probably Lupin, lifted his arm and began to remove the bandages, he kept his eyes shut and tried to not concentrate too much on what was going on around him. Lupin talked to him from time to time to keep him from falling asleep while working with the bandages, cleaning Severus with a wash-cloth, drying him with a soft towel and, finally, putting on new bandages under Sirius' directions.

Severus answered Lupin's questions only with the occasional curt nod, shake of his head or curling of his lips, if at all, and stubbornly refused to open his eyes to not let the humiliating situation he was in close in on him.

The drugs Black had mentioned had already lost most of their effect some time ago, and again, every muscle in his body, especially his hands, legs, back and shoulders were burning and throbbing like hell.

"Severus?"

He did not visibly react to Lupin's voice and further immersed himself in the illusion that his entire situation was nothing but a bad dream if only he believed in it hard enough.

"Severus, please look at me."

Bloody werewolf. What did he want now again?

"Open your eyes, Snape!"

Severus eyes shot open immediately without him thinking about it. With his curt, bellowed orders, Black always managed to trigger the automatic response Lucius had burned into his brain, making Severus sub consciousnessbetray his cognisant will again and again.

Severus hated Malfoy for it and despised Black from the depth of his very being for having so much control over him even if Black himself might not be aware of it.

Severus gaze fell on Lupin's nervous looking face in front of him. "Severus... I'm done so far, and Sirius will be fetching you a new night-shirt in a minute. I just wanted to ask ..." he cleared his throat as if not knowing how to explain something rather unpleasant to him. " I just wondered if you need to use the loo before we take you upstairs again."

Severus' jaw dropped and he felt the blood rushing into his cheeks. He was painfully aware of the pressure that had built up in his bladder, however, he had refused to consider this little detail and successfully suppressed the sensation so far. He was determined to just continue doing so until Poppy would come back. Her helping him with such private affairs he could accept, she was a professional after all and thus fell into a totally different category from everybody else. But Lupin and Black...

"No," he finally gritted out through clenched teeth. "I just want to get rid of you as quickly as possible."

The expression on Remus' face displayed a combination of pity and frustration. "Your kidneys won't react well to the additional strain. You shouldn't ..."

"I'LL WAIT!" shouted Severus angrily. "Fuck my bloody kidneys. Just take me upstairs already!"

Sirius and Lupin stared at him open-mouthed, visibly shocked by the uncharacteristically vulgar choice of words. He did not care. If only they did as he had told them.

"Sirius, please go get a night-gown," said Lupin finally in a defeated tone of voice.

Sirius stopped staring at the injured wizard and nodded with a frown.

"You'll have to wait another few minutes while Sirius changes the sheets and mops up the mess on the floor," Remus explained.

Severus did not bother to answer.

When Black returned a minute later, he carried a folded night-gown and a syringe. He let Remus deal with threading the IV, which had been hung up on a protruding screw beside the flush, through the right sleeve of the night-shirt, and then helping Severus into the piece of clothing. The Slytherin did not exactly help with the task but, at least, he did not make it more difficult for Lupin than necessary.

After Severus was dressed, Black came closer, unscrewed the needle from the syringe, and grabbed for Severus' elbow with the IV.

"Don't move, Snape," he growled, undid the tube from the piece that vanished under the bandage into Severus' skin, and injected the contents of the syringe into the IV. Then, he removed the syringe again and reconnected the tube.

A pleasantly warm feeling spread inside Severus' arm and up his right shoulder, dimming the throbbing pain.

"What did you give him?" inquired Lupin suspiciously.

"Pain-killer. It'll make you a bit dizzy, Snape. But if you are careful, you'll be able to manage on your own now. Remus and I'll wait outside."

Severus stared at the Animagus in surprise, as did Lupin.

"Are you totally nutters now, Sirius?" his friend asked incredulously. "He can't even stand up to open that lid on his own. He could fall and hurt himself!"

Severus had no idea what Black's motivations were, probably it was only because he neither wanted to help his old enemy with the task nor risk him wetting the bed, something Severus would never let happen anyway, however, why question his motives when, for once in his life, he benefited from it?

"Why don't you go already? I'll call you when you may come back," he snarled.

Lupin glanced at him doubtfully, but Black grabbed the werewolf by his robes and dragged him towards the door. "Come, Moony. Let's get out of here."

""""""""""""""""""""""""""

Taken by surprise, Remus let himself be manoeuvred out of the bathroom, regaining his wits only when Black closed the door behind them.

"You are totally crazy, Padfoot! To leave Snape alone like this is highly negligent, you know that. In his condition, he'll never manage without help."

"Sure he will. He's a stubborn bastard. He'll see to that he won't fall."

"Sirius!" Remus admonished sharply. He really had enough of their petty games now. Severus would never recover that way.

Sirius only smiled at his friend's reprimands. "Just think about it, Moony. Snape will never let us help him with these kinds of things, and I can't honestly blame him. The git's ego is, at least, as big as his nose, so why not use his stubbornness for something constructive, for once? Or do you prefer risking further damage to his kidneys because of it? We'd only have more problems, then. I really don't want any repetition of what happened after I gave him that potion, if I can help it."

Remus had to admit that his friend had a point here. Severus' pride would never allow for them to help him sit on the loo, or even watch to make sure he was okay. Further damage to his kidneys was probably the worse scenario compared to the possibility of him falling.

"All right, but if he hasn't called within the next five minutes yet, I'll go check on him."

""""""""""""""""""""""""""

Luckily, they found a totally exhausted and trembling, but otherwise intact Snape sitting on the lid of the toilet when they re-entered the bathroom. Sirius went upstairs to change the sheets, Remus following ten minutes later, carrying Snape in his arms. This time, the Potions master had not even tried to put up a fight. Using the loo on his own had drained him so thoroughly, he was already half asleep when Remus lowered him onto the bed with Black's help. He re-arranged the pillows to take the pressure from the injured body parts according to the Animagus' directions, much impressed by how well Poppy had instructed his friend.

When they were done, Severus was fast asleep.

Remus and Sirius returned to the kitchen where the two mugs with the now cold tea were still waiting on the table. Remus dropped down into his chair while Sirius wordlessly took the mugs and refilled them with the steaming liquid.

In silence, they sat opposite each other for a while, deeply steeped in thought.

"What the hell were you thinking, Sirius?" asked Remus, finally breaking the silence.

Sirius looked at his friend indifferently. "What do you mean? Didn't I explain the thing with the bathroom already?"

"I'm not referring to that. You left Severus alone with the food although you knew pretty well that he wouldn't be able to manage without your help."

Sirius only shrugged. "He threw me out," he justified himself off-handed.

"And since when do you let Snape throw you out? You really should have helped him. Anyway, why was he soaked like this? He could hardly have managed to lift the plate." Remus leant forward gazing at his friend intently. "Am I right in assuming that you emptied the plate with soup on him?"

Remus did not know what made him more angry, the fact that Sirius actually would do something so mean without a second thought, or that he had looked away and done nothing to prevent such dirty tricks too many times in the past already. He had feared he would lose his only friends, then, but past was past, and he was not an insecure child anymore. True friendship could handle differences as well as the truth, and nobody needed to put up an act.

Sirius did not meet his gaze. He was biting his lips, something that made him look exceedingly guilty. "No, I didn't. I let him hold the plate when he insisted he didn't need my help."

"WHAT? Have you totally lost your mind now? You saw Snape's skin. And that he burned himself isn't even the worst. He was starved for weeks on end. The IV is helping his body get the necessary nutrients, sure, but he'll never recover if he doesn't start eating and rebuilding his strength. I thought, you of all people would be familiar with how it feels like to be both hungry and thirsty, Sirius."

"Have you noticed how strange Snape is acting?" inquired Sirius, changing the subject abruptly.

"What?"

"I mean, stranger than usual," Sirius said with a grin.

"What on earth are you talking about?" Remus asked incredulously.

Sirius shrugged. "Don't know myself, yet. He's just...different."

"Severus was tortured, Sirius. And now he is totally dependent on us, or especially on you, his childhood enemy. It's only natural that he would have difficulties dealing with the situation. And it won't get better until he is able to do more things on his own again. Moreover, he was injured badly and cursed and it's quite possible that there will be permanent damage to his body. At the moment, Snape is in a very compromising position." Remus lowered his voice to somewhat tune out the tone of accusation. "He has never been able to handle his anger particularly well, and now it's even worse. Try to keep that in mind, Sirius. Snape is probably not the most pleasant of people, and I know you don't like him at all, however, he has done a lot for our side and risked his life, plus he saved Harry's life in the boy's first year, as you know. Please, try at least not to further harm the man."

Sirius growled something unintelligible in response.

"That also includes that you should not attack him verbally, Sirius."

"I only tried to get back at him for the insults he keeps throwing at me," protested the Animagus.

"You taunted him without him provoking you."

"I did not taunt him."

"And what else was this supposed to be? In the bathroom?"

"A test," Sirius answered simply.

"A test? Sirius, please stop those games of yours. It wasn't okay back in school and now it is even less acceptable. Your gesture with the loo was bloody careless, however, you managed to show some empathy for once. I beg you, please at least try. It's not as if it were forever. As soon as Severus is feeling better and we have found a counter-curse, or the Aurors have left, we will gladly take over from you."

"I still have the feeling he's totally lost it, though," muttered Sirius.

Remus smiled benevolently. He knew his words had finally made an impression on his friend, if only a partial one. At least, Severus would no longer run the risk of getting worse because of Sirius Black.

""""""""""""


	52. Harry’s Confession

Chapter 51:

_Harry's Confession_

'... Add three beetle legs, then stir seven times counter-clockwise,' recited Snape silently while staring at the ceiling which was turning brighter and brighter in the early morning light. 'Mind that it's essential to use the left legs of the male stag-beetle only, otherwise the potion will have the reverse effect ...'

Severus had woken up hours ago. Or rather, he had started from a particularly nasty and far too realistic nightmare featuring a cold cell in Azkaban where he had been suspended from the wall, arms bound tightly behind his back, an ocean of white-hot coals only inches beneath his dangling feet.

Shortly after he awoke, Black had emerged, carrying another plate with soup.

That was in the middle of the night, though, and Severus still wondered how Black could possibly have heard him since the Gryffindor should have been sound asleep. However, this time Snape had let the Animagus spoon-feed him without protest. There was no sense in fighting it anyway. Black had been grumpy, his hair ruffled, and he was wearing pyjamas, but he had fed him the soup without a single word, helped him with a glass of water, and then manoeuvred him into a different position before leaving the room again, muttering something about 'missed sleep' and 'surely on purpose' under his breath.

Severus was only too glad when Black had finally left. Having to subordinate himself like this made him feel increasingly miserable. His shoulders and the other injuries were aching, and in the dark and silent room the memories of the torture came even more alive than during the day. He had been awake for quite a while now. Longer than ever before since his rescue, and he realised that it was rather horrible to not be able to sink back into the dark oblivion of sleep. So horrible that he almost wished Black was back, if only to distract him from the haunting memories.

At some point, he had begun to mentally brew potions in a desperate attempt to suppress the resurfacing memories and emotions, and as so often before, his potions had not betrayed him; at least as long as his concentration was not disrupted by another wave of intense agony. Every tiny movement was causing him pain, and therefore he tried to lie as motionless as possible. Nevertheless, he was plagued by sudden cramps from time to time that made his muscles burn as if on fire, reminiscent of particularly severe after-effects of the Cruciatus.

Only late in the morning, when it was already light outside, did Severus fall asleep again, having by that time finished a very complex Invisibility potion.

"-"-"-"-"-"-"-"-"-"-"-"-"-"-"-"-"-"-"-"-"-"-"-"-"-"-"-"-"-"-

Minerva McGonagall was having quite some difficulty concentrating on the students' essays she was supposed to correct. In ten minutes the sixth years would be arriving, and they would be only too happy to finally have their homework assignments back. Usually, it did not take Minerva more than two or three days at the maximum. However, the events of the previous days and the extra work substituting for the headmaster whenever he was at the Ministry, with Snape, or searching ancient tomes for Dark curses had mixed up her schedule considerably.

There was only one essay left, but she had the feeling that she would not be able to finish it in time for class. Again and again, her thoughts drifted back to Lupin, who had come to see her less than half an hour ago and told her what he had found in this little hut of his.

Remus had been worried. He had not related what exactly had occurred, but he had voiced his doubts about the arrangement and said that it would come close to a miracle if Sirius were actually able to help Snape heal. Minerva had already anticipated something like that. She was painfully aware of that Albus had not had many options, but to place Sirius Black and Severus Snape under the same roof without constant supervision was a disaster waiting to happen.

Ever since they had found Severus, Minerva had been informed about what was going on in Remus' house, and as Albus was still at the Ministry and had not come back at all last night it was up to her to keep an eye on things. She had promised Albus to look after Severus herself in the evening, in case he had not returned by then.

Minerva was extremely nervous about this visit. On the one hand, she wanted to make sure her young colleague was alive and recovering. On the other hand, however, she dreaded seeing with her own eyes what Albus and Poppy had told her about his injuries.

She had known the young Slytherin since he was a child of eleven years. It would have been a bold overstatement to say that she had actually liked him as a student. Almost nobody had liked the boy. And this had not changed much as he grew up since Severus Snape had the unique talent to be insufferable most of the time. Nevertheless, over the years, she had come to deeply respect the man. He had made mistakes in his life, but he did everything in his might to right his wrongs and atone for his sins with a courage and bravery most of her Gryffindors would never be able to muster. Moreover, and contrary to the obvious, you could rely on Severus Snape more than on any other person when things became truly nasty.

He had not only earned her respect, but also the respect of most members of the Order, and especially Albus seemed to care a good deal about him. After Severus had almost died two nights ago, the headmaster had been extremely worried and worn-out. Poppy had decided then that it was too risky to give Severus the potion on grounds of a mere assumption and that they would leave it with the dose they had already given him, hoping that it would be enough or that he did not really need it in the first place.

Sighing, Minerva put the quill away. It was just impossible for her to concentrate on the last of the essays, and if Seamus Finnigan had to wait for his until next class, the others would have to wait as well.

"Professor McGonagall?"

Minerva looked up, taken totally by surprise. She had been so absorbed in thought that she had not even noticed the door open and now, Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger were standing in the doorway, looking at her quizzically.

"You are too early," came her stern reprimand.

"I know," said Harry, slightly nervous. "We're looking for the headmaster, but we can't find him anywhere."

"Don't just stand in the doorframe. Come on in already if you want to talk to me," McGonagall admonished. "Professor Dumbledore's still at the Ministry. Can I help you somehow?"

Potter and his friends walked into the classroom and came to a halt in front of her desk.

"We just wanted to ask how Professor Snape is doing. Professor Dumbledore told us that things weren't all that well yesterday," Hermione explained.

Minerva surveyed the guilty expressions on the three students' faces. "He is stable, but it will take quite some time until he will be up and about again. He is doing a little better each day, though."

Ron and Harry exchanged worried glances, and this time it was the Weasley-boy who spoke. "How did he react when he heard who gave him away?"

The three were looking even guiltier than before.

"We haven't mentioned it so far. Professor Snape's condition has not allowed it yet, and as long as he doesn't ask, we don't think it wise, nor necessary, to further upset him."

Miss Granger was chewing her lip and the two boys looked to the floor self-consciously. Severus did not tend to get loud very often. Most of the times his vicious tongue and haughty sarcasm were more than sufficient to impress people. However, if he did lose control, a raging Severus Snape was not something you cared to see twice. According to Lupin, the trio had had the pleasure already once, so it was quite understandable that the prospect of another of Snape's raging fits on finally hearing the truth about the letter was not exactly an uplifting one.

Therefore, Minerva was genuinely surprised when Harry cleared his throat and said; "We'd like to visit him and tell him ourselves when he feels a bit better."

At those words, Minerva's initial surprise transformed into pride. Her three young Gryffindors were brave enough to face their own mistakes and shoulder the consequences, no matter what.

"I'm going to see him tonight after dinner. You may accompany me if you wish to. However, I will decide whether or not you can talk to him after I have seen him myself and found out if he is well enough to hear your confession yet."

The three students nodded, managing to look both relieved and very uncomfortable at the same time.

"-"-"-"-"-"-"-"-"-"-"-"-"-"-"-"-"-"-"-"-"-"-"-"-"-"-"-"-"-"-

When Minerva entered Severus' room a couple of hours later, glancing at him for the first time, the determination to not let the three Gryffindors come close to his bed if she could help it formed in her mind immediately.

The man, who was lying motionless on the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling, was hardly recognisable as Hogwart's Potions master. His face was that of a starved man, skin drawn tightly over protruding cheekbones, making his nose look even more prominent than usual. His eyes were sunk deep in their sockets, and a dark stubble had begun to cover his chin and cheeks. Since Voldemort's curse had robbed him of all his magic, the spell that kept most male wizards shaven neatly had lost its effect, too. Never in her life had Minerva seen Severus unshaven, and this simply felt _wrong_. Together with the short hair, everything that once was characteristic of the Head of Slytherin seemed to be gone.

Something inside Minerva's chest clenched. Severus Snape was not a man you felt pity for, yet, she was deeply moved by the pitiful sight.

"Hello Severus," she greeted softly.

The man in the sickbed moved his head and looked at her with blank eyes before curling his lips and turning away only to continue his staring contest with the ceiling, not acknowledging her presence in the least.

Minerva took a deep breath. She should have expected the young teacher to sulk. Severus was not a person who would handle being sick well. To be dependent on others was not easy for the Slytherin, and now, being stripped of any semblance of control over his life, he had to completely rely on other people even for the most elemental chores for his body.

On the one hand, she pitied him for what had happened to him, but on the other hand, Minerva was of the opinion that he ought to act more like an adult. Severus had always done what was necessary in the fight against Voldemort, even risked his life again and again, why then was it so hard for him to accept the – admittedly unpleasant, though quite necessary – momentary situation?

Stupid Slytherin pride.

"How are you doing, Severus?" she asked, approaching his bed and coming to a halt beside it.

Severus did not answer. However, a resigned expression stole into his eyes for the briefest of moments, vanishing so quickly again that Minerva could not be sure she was not imagining things. "Sorry, a stupid question," she tried to appease. Judging from his appearance and all the bandages reminiscent of the terrible wounds on his body, the question was probably not a well-chosen one.

"Where is Albus?" asked Severus hoarsely in an attempt to shift attention away from him.

"He's still at the Ministry trying to get the Aurors removed from Hogwarts. If he succeeds, we'll be able to take you home." Minerva was surprised by her motherly tone of voice, but Hogwarts just was not the same without the morose, surly Head of Slytherin. She missed their verbal duelling and the constant competition with the man more than she was ready to ever admit.

Severus snorted. "I thought I couldn't come to a place that is magically warded?"

"This is only temporary, Severus. We'll find a counter-curse soon. You could help us immensely if you remembered what curse Voldemort used on you."

Usually, Minerva was not a person to raise false hope, after all it was very likely that Voldemort had chosen a curse which could not be countered easily, however, she had the feeling that Severus would not much appreciate the truth right now.

Snape seemed to ponder the question briefly, but then the expression on his face hardened. "I can't remember!" he hissed.

Minerva had to make an effort to not react sternly to his harsh words and the fact that he had not even tried to co-operate. After all, he was far from being a friendly and patient fellow even under normal circumstances. He would need some empathy, now. "Are you quite sure? If only you tried to concentrate ..."

"I SAID I DIDN'T REMEMBER!"

Stubborn Slytherin brat. Seldom had Minerva encountered somebody so anti-social. Well, if he did not want her to help him… Anyhow, he seemed to be in a better form than expected if he was already able to throw a tantrum.

"Very well then. Then we'll just leave it for now. In case you are interested in us breaking the curse so that you can use magic again, just say so. In the meantime – Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, and Miss Granger are waiting downstairs. They'd like to tell you something."

Not waiting for his reaction to this revelation, she left the room hastily. Better he let off some steam before she came back with the children. If the three were willing to subject themselves to his foul mood, that was. He would hardly stay nice and calm when they came out with their confession since, apparently, he looked much worse than he was, his injuries not seeming to have quenched his volatile temperament in the least.

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Severus was beginning to feel like a rare animal in a Muggle zoo people were standing in queue for to have a look at. The local attraction, please register for watching the feeding ritual. Yes, really. Star in a curiosity show, that's what he was still good enough for. And to top it all, McGonagall had had the cheek to ask him whether he remembered Voldemort's curse.

At her question, blurry memories of words chanted by Voldemort had flickered through his mind, but whenever he tried to catch hold of them, his thoughts had wheeled towards how he had been crouching on a leash, crying on the floor and mentally prostituting himself in front of the Dark Lord.

He only hoped Minerva had not noticed the flush of shame burning in his cheeks.

"I can't remember!" he had shouted at her angrily, at the same time forcing himself to mentally recite the recipe of the Wolfsbane potion to distract himself from the humiliating memory.

However, the annoying woman did not intend to leave him in peace. Damn, he did not want to remember, why could that daft Gryffindor not understand this?

The second time she asked him, he had voiced his refusal in a volume that even Minerva would understand and he was successful. The Transfigurations Professor had given up all her false friendliness, gracing him with a stern and probably somewhat disappointed glance, and then she had disclosed to him that the infernal threesome wished to see him before rushing out of his room without as much as giving him the briefest chance to object.

His life was becoming increasingly unbearable.

When the three students entered the room and stood there gloating at him disrespectfully, mouths agape, Severus sneered at them as spitefully as possible. They should not be here. He was their teacher, and they were supposed to respect him, but Harry was James bloody Potter's son, and he, too, would have his every wish fulfilled by the teachers and the headmaster without having to follow any rules, exactly like his father.

Black and Lupin had had their share of seeing him helpless and vulnerable already. Since James Potter was dead, it obviously was his son's turn to enjoy the show. It was not fair that they should see him like this. He had always been the teacher with both the power and the will to deduct points and give out detention. By picking on Potter Junior, he had been able to exert at least some revenge over his father. For once, it had been him who had the upper hand, and he had thoroughly enjoyed the feeling as some kind of recompense for many years of being victimised by Potter Senior and his gang, but now, this power over the boy would be broken for good.

'Potter did not let Voldemort's torture get him down,' a mean voice whispered inside his head. That Potter's imprisonment had lasted for a brief moment only, was of no significance. Once again, a Potter had achieved something he had failed at miserably.

"What do you brats want here?" he hissed at them.

"We wanted to see how you were doing, Professor," stammered Granger awkwardly.

They seemed to be rather uncomfortable in his presence, however, the expression of dread usually displayed by every student in expectance of some disaster when on the receiving end of his wrath, was suspiciously absent in their eyes. No wonder. Who would be impressed by a man who was lying in bed unable to even feed on his own?

Out of the corner of his eye, Severus saw McGonagall and Black entering the room behind the children and heard the Gryffindor teacher gasp with indignation at his conduct towards the kids, but he ignored her.

"Don't act as if my well-being concerned you in the least. Why are you here?"

"It's about ... ehm, well, ..." Weasley's voice seemed to be stuck somewhere in his throat and was hardly more than a squeak when he interrupted himself.

The three looked more nervous by the minute, something that annoyed Severus to no end. "Stop spouting gibberish at me, Weasley. If you have something to say then do it and get lost."

To Severus' satisfaction, Weasley and Granger flinched slightly, and only Potter straightened his shoulders and took a deep breath before having the cheek to look him in the eyes. Blasted Gryffindor.

"It's about the letter Voldemort intercepted, Professor."

Obviously, Potter wanted to say more, however, his courage seemed to desert him at last and he lowered his head guiltily. "Well, the letter ... I was having a vision about you killing the McGregors ..."

Snape felt the blood leaving his face when he understood. Often enough he had asked himself how the writer of the letter could possibly know about the McGregors. Obviously, he had failed to take Potter's visions into account. "It was you," he concluded quietly.

Potter nodded awkwardly while his two sidekicks were staring guiltily to the floor. "We are so sorry," Granger whispered almost inaudibly.

"We didn't know that Sirius was alive and that you were still on our side. We only wanted to..." Potter fell silent as if his words, too, were stuck in his throat.

_So, it had been Potter and his gang who were responsible for what had happened, _he thought.

This was so humiliating that shame threatened to overpower the anger that was building in Severus' chest. Three students, almost children yet, had destroyed the plan and put him at the mercy of Malfoy and Voldemort. Plus, Potter had witnessed how he had been forced to kill Molly and Charles in order to not blow his cover and save the two from a worse fate. Already years ago, this aspect of his spying job had gotten to him, and nobody, nobody at all, was supposed to watch this. He felt the overwhelming desire to yell at the three until they were trembling with fear, or attack them. If he only had his wand, he could not guarantee for anything. However, he would have to be able to hold it in the first place then, the soft voice inside his head sneered.

Besides, what would be the use? Now that the teenagers had seen him in such a vulnerable position they would hardly take him seriously anymore, would they now? Nobody seemed to mind that. Malfoy was right. He was pathetic. The three students would play him up just outside his grasp like they would a chained dog. A chained and mad barking dog without teeth. One everybody could have a good laugh at behind his back. Or even in his face.

He wanted to shout, to chase the brats away but all of a sudden, he found himself lacking the necessary energy.

"You wanted to finish what your father and his gang had begun, didn't you?" he said instead, almost in a whisper. He had tried to make his voice as insulting as possible, and with a touch of satisfaction, he registered the hurt expression on Potter's face. He had hit a nerve. Why then did the usual feeling of superiority not come?

For a moment, James' son looked at him, tears in his eyes, before he choked out, "I'm sorry," and fled the room with a sob. Granger and Weasley managed a curt apology as well, even though their hurt and almost angry glares were telling a different story. Then, they rushed after their friend.

"Really, Severus," exclaimed Minerva. "Can't you ever hold back your vicious tongue, even when somebody wants to apologise to you? They made a mistake, but they acted with the best of intentions. You of all people should be able to understand that. You really are impossible. Why don't you just shout at the boy if you absolutely want to act childishly? No, you do have to leash out and deeply hurt him. But you have no right to hurt Harry like this, no right at all!"

Determinedly, Snape stared at the ceiling above him. Again, everybody stood up for a Potter. He, of course, had no right to hurt precious Harry. What the brat had done to him was not that bad, he was alive after all, and he had not done it out of evil intentions. It was of no importance that the Gryffindor had destroyed his life. An apology and everything was well and forgotten. Exactly like with the Shrieking Shack ...

He continued staring at the ceiling, fighting back the hot, stinging tears that threatened to his eyes until Minerva and an uncharacteristically quiet Sirius Black had left the room, most probably to console and encourage Potter. Only then, he let a single tear escape from the corner of his eye, leaving a wet trace behind when disappearing in the hair around his temple.

TBC

Translated by Persephone Lupin,

Betaed by Slytherin's silver snake and Sadistra.


	53. Magica Pudidus

Chapter 52:

_Magica Pudidus_

The instant Albus entered Remus' house, a hubbub of anxious voices reached his ears.

He followed the sounds into the living room where Harry, Ron, and Hermione were sitting on the sofa in front of a few forgotten teacups, talking heatedly with Sirius and Minerva. The two adults were still standing, both wearing serious expressions on their faces.

Albus sighed disapprovingly. Of course, Harry and his friends would want to apologise to Severus. He had anticipated that and the fact that they had not voiced their wish to him so far had already made him wonder. Usually, he tended to wholly trust Minerva's judgement. However, had he had any say in the matter, he would not have let the kids visit Severus in his current condition. At least not when he himself was not at hand to de-escalate the situation if necessary. Severus would not like being seen in such a helpless state by his students, and Albus would bet his ancient 'Fire Comet' that the encounter had been far from peaceful and relaxed. Severus was a man who would not for the life of him permit any display of weakness in front of others, and if the students had indeed been allowed to see him in his helplessness while he was awake, the grades of the trio would certainly suffer severely until the day of their graduation.

_Assuming that Severus will ever be able to teach again_, he added sadly as an afterthought.

Upon seeing Dumbledore enter the room, Sirius' face lit up with relief.

"Albus!" he exclaimed, making the others look up and turn towards the headmaster, too. Yet their faces failed to show a similarly relieved expression. Harry looked rather unsettled, Ron was angry, and Hermione's face mirrored a mixture of confusion and guilt.

So, then Severus had indeed been awake…

Sighing deeply, Albus approached the group and nodded at them.

"Albus, thank Merlin you are back!" he was greeted by the deputy headmistress. Although these words should have worried the headmaster greatly, Minerva's voice did not hold any trace of panic or pressing anxiety – only righteous indignation. The kind of indignation she always displayed when Severus had 'maltreated' her Gryffindors once again.

"What is it Severus has done now again?" he asked mildly, not really able to enjoy the surprised expressions all around him as it had not been that difficult to guess what they were talking about. He had more important things on his mind right now. And Severus should be given the chance to heal before confronting him with students.

Minerva quickly recovered her wits. "That impossible man! Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, and Ms. Granger wanted to apologise to him, and what does he do? Hurl some extremely vicious insults at Mr. Potter! I am well aware that it won't be easy for Severus to forgive the kids, but can't he see that it was an accident and that the children have been punished enough already? After all, HE once made a bad mistake, too. And that's rather an understatement."

Albus slowly shook his head. "Minerva, after all those years, you really should know Severus well enough as to anticipate his reaction. You should not have exposed him like this."

Nodding to the three teenagers, he continued, "I do appreciate your wish to apologise to Professor Snape; this was really brave and very Gryffindor-esque of the three of you. However, it was too early."

Again he looked at McGonagall and just managed to keep the accusation from showing on his face. "Severus is a proud man, Minerva, and he doesn't take well to being seen helpless and vulnerable, especially not in front of students. Terrible things have been done to him, and he will hold Harry responsible for part of it. Moreover, he will never take an apology from a Gryffindor, and certainly not from James Potter's son, seriously after everything that transpired between the two when they still were students."

"What do you mean, Professor?"

Albus glanced at the suddenly very interested looking dark-haired teen. "Now, Harry, you certainly already know that your father and Severus were having quite a few differences back then." He decided not to expand on the details of their notorious quarrels. Harry need not know everything.

"How are things with the Ministry?" asked Sirius, abruptly changing the subject while looking uncharacteristically calm. Albus would have expected him to be at least as outraged at Severus' behaviour as was Minerva, but, for once, the former Marauder, who seemed to be in a rather pensive mood, did not join in the tirade about his childhood enemy.

"I exerted some pressure and Fudge promised to talk with the Board of School Governors about withdrawing the Aurors, but I don't know how trustworthy this promise is."

"And the members of the Order?" inquired Minerva.

Albus could almost feel Harry and his two friends prick up their ears. Well, perhaps it was time to let the kids know.

"Everything is in place so far. It is possible, of course, that we haven't found all their hideouts yet, but the places we do know about are all wired and should suffice. Now, we just have to watch and wait."

Again, Dumbledore turned to the three students. "For some time now, we have been listing places where, after our knowledge, Death Eater meetings might be conducted. Most of these locations are magically warded, that's why we resorted to Muggle technology. The Muggles have achieved the most astonishing things without using magic. Their bugs are more efficient than even the newest inventions by the Weasley twins, and, most of all, Voldemort will never expect us to use those Muggle contraptions."

"But what use could that be?" Ron asked curiously.

"And how did you get inside the houses and all the other places if they are magically warded, Professor?" added Hermione, frowning.

Albus smiled knowingly. "Still today, most wizards are so used to underestimate the house elves, and only because they are subservient. Nevertheless, house elves are powerful magical beings. I'll explain the plan to you in more detail one of these days, but now I really want to look after Severus."

"And we better return to school," Minerva urged. "Our absence must not be noticed."

"Please, wait a few minutes. I'll try not to be too long, but Harry, Hermione, and Ron should finally hear the entire truth. Already twice, keeping important information from the children led straight into disaster, Minerva. Sometimes I might be a bit naive, but I'm not totally daft. I won't repeat the same mistake thrice, especially not with matters concerning Harry."

"Already twice? And what are those matters concerning me?" Harry asked.

Albus smiled at him warmly. "Later, Harry, later. I'll be back soon."

He turned around ready to leave when Hermione's voice stopped him. "Oh, Professor. We found one curse that might be the one Voldemort put on Professor Snape, though it would have side effects he does not have. The victim almost always goes blind. We didn't have the time to read through the book more thoroughly yet, so perhaps we missed something..."

"What curse exactly is that, Ms. Granger?" Albus wanted to know immediately.

"A very old one that completely destroys the magic inherent of a wizard," Harry explained. "That's also why there is no counter-curse. It's name was Avenu ... Avene ..." Harry looked at Hermione, who was rolling her eyes in exasperation.

"Aveneficium."

"Yes, exactly, that was it," Harry smiled.

Albus nodded pensively. "That would make the fourth possibility then," he murmured into his long silvery beard while turning to Sirius. "Did Severus recall the curse yet, or anything that might help us identify it?"

The Animagus glanced at the Transfigurations Professor, who shook her head and answered. "No, I asked him, but he either does not remember or does not want to remember. You know how stubborn Severus can be."

Albus frowned. He had better ask the Slytherin himself. Nodding at them once again, he finally left the room and proceeded towards Severus' chamber.

He had just reached the staircase when he heard hasty steps following him.

"Albus? Can I have a word?"

Impatiently, Dumbledore waited at the foot of the stairs, one hand on the banister and his foot already on the first step. He really wanted to look after Severus now, especially since the injured wizard was awake at the moment. He had almost been sick with worry on behalf of the Slytherin, and now he would finally be able to talk to the young man again and make sure he was recovering and would live. The boy ought to know that he was not alone and that they would do everything to help him. Moreover, he had to find out exactly which curse had been used on Severus and whether there was a way to reverse it. Though he did not hold high hopes for this to actually happen. Of the four possible curses, two were irreversible, one would lead to certain death over months, and only with one the magic would slowly return of its own accord. That Voldemort had actually used this last one did not make much sense, unfortunately. Why rob the traitor of his magic in the first place if it would come back after a while?

Pushing these gloomy thoughts away for the moment, he forced a smile. "What's the matter, Sirius?"

The Animagus walked up to him, looking at the old headmaster seriously. "Snape's the matter, of course. Something's wrong with him, Albus."

Albus felt the blood drain from his face. "Did he have a relapse? Is it his circulatory system, his...?"

"No, physically he is doing better," interrupted Sirius, and then, sending a nervous glance towards the second floor and lowering his voice to a mere whisper, he continued. "Snape is acting strangely. Not like himself. He's close to a breakdown, if you ask me."

Albus' eyes narrowed, and he, too, lowered his voice inadvertently. "What do you mean by strange, Sirius?"

The Gryffindor shrugged. "Do I look like an expert on Slytherin behaviour? He's just – different."

A heavy weight of anxiety was lifted from Albus heart. "It's only natural that he is different. After what has been done to him. Severus hates to appear weak, especially in front of you. Plus he has to digest a very traumatic experience, and the fact that he doesn't know whether or not his magic will come back doesn't make things easier. Considering all this, don't you think he has a right to act somewhat unsettled and aggressively?"

"I don't know. I have the feeling there is more to it, Albus. But you'll see for yourself."

Dumbledore patted Sirius on the shoulder good-naturedly. "I'll observe him closely. And thank you for telling me – and for your concern."

Sirius snorted in disgust. "Concern? For the slimy Slytherin? You must be hallucinating. I simply want to get rid of him as soon as possible. You are aware that I do this only for you, Albus? I owe you my life because it was you who gave Harry and Hermione the hint about the time-turner."

With these words, he turned on his heels and returned to the living room.

Albus sighed. It was only too obvious that Sirius meant every single word. It had been an old man's silly wish that the two young wizards would actually use the situation to make up for old hurts and grudges and bury their enmity. A foolish wish, it seemed.

Severus was lying on his back motionlessly, his upper body propped up by some supportive pillows into a slightly slanting position, staring blankly at the ceiling and not showing any sign of having heard him open the door.

Albus entered the room and carefully closed the door behind him.

"Severus?" Slowly he approached the sickbed, coming to a halt in front of it.

The Potions master's eyes widened slightly upon recognising the headmaster. Turning his head, he looked at the old wizard with a strange expression on his face.

Albus reached for a wooden chair that was standing close to a small table and sat down near the bed. "How are you doing, Severus?" he asked with concern.

Severus did not answer immediately, only nodded his head weakly. "Albus?"

Albus smiled warmly down at the sick man. "Yes, my child. I'm so sorry that you didn't get to see me sooner. I was here a couple of times, but you were asleep then."

Severus did not comment. "You got me out of there?" he asked instead in a husky voice.

For a brief second, Albus wondered why the enthusiasm, which should have been there, was missing in the question, but then he remembered whom he was talking to. Severus was rarely able to express feelings other than rage or disappointment. "Of course I have, Severus. We were really lucky to receive a hint at where to find you. Obviously, the Dark Lord underestimated your strength. But you'll get well again. We'll show him, won't we?"

Albus tried his best to sound optimistic. He was well aware of the fact that he was one of the very few people in the world, probably the only one, Severus trusted completely. Not knowing whether he would ever be able to use magic again, the young wizard would need this optimism.

However, Severus looked everything but optimistic. "I'm useless as a spy now, even as a teacher."

It was hardly more than a whisper. Now Albus understood what Sirius had tried to tell him. Severus, on the one hand, was a proud man, but on the other hand he wanted to correct at least some of the wrongs of his past, and without magic he felt useless. It almost broke Albus' heart to see the Slytherin like this.

Protectively, he laid a hand on the injured wizard's shoulder. "Don't worry, Severus. We'll find something where you can still be of use to the order. You and your knowledge are invaluable for our cause. 

Severus closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them again a new determination was to be seen there. Albus smiled happily at his young friend. "Everything will be all right, my boy. We are all so glad to have you back."

Albus knew that Severus was not comfortable with any open display of emotions but this had to be said. If it had not been for all the ugly injuries and his fear to cause the Slytherin even more pain, he would even have hugged him. Picturing this, the old wizard could not suppress a smile. Severus just was not the cuddly type of person.

"Now, Sirius tells me that you are a bit better today," he changed the subject into a more pleasant track. "I'm glad to see that you two haven't killed each other yet. Especially after Sirius having cut your hair."

Severus looked at him wide-eyed. "Black did that? I thought..."

Albus smiled wryly. Actually, he had expected Sirius to have already rubbed Severus' nose in that titbit of information to anger the Slytherin and cause another verbal fight. "Your hair was too filthy. Sirius said it would have been close to impossible to get rid of all the dirt and grime. In fact, it suits you well, if I may say so."

Gently, he reached out to brush away a short black lock from Severus' brow, but the Slytherin turned his head away abruptly and stared at the wall again.

Albus sighed softly. Severus did not like to be touched. He lowered his hand again and decided to leave it with this. "Let's not talk about your hair. It's not important, and it will grow back soon enough."

Instead of the expected sarcastic remark, the Slytherin only pressed his lips into a thin, hard line and continued sulking over the unwelcome news. "Don't worry, my boy," Albus sighed. "I'll do everything in my might to get the Aurors removed from the school soon, but it really would be best for the both of you if you could finally leave the past behind."

As anticipated, Severus did not reply, but his mouth twisted into a sneer.

Most fortunately, Dumbledore was a very patient man but Severus always managed to test his limits again and again. The boy was so bitter and surly; he usually made things much worse for himself than necessary. Unfortunately, he had good reason to be bitter this time, after what had been done to his body and his magic. His magic. That was another problem they had to discuss.

"Please look at me, Severus."

Reluctantly, the Potions master turned his head and met his employer's eyes.

"Minerva says that you cannot remember the curse the Dark Lord used on you to rob you of your magic. Is that right?"

For the briefest moment, something like resistance flickered in Severus eyes before he answered with a simple "Yes." This seemed to close the subject for him, something that surprised Albus to no end. He would have expected a lot more enthusiasm when discussing the chances for a reversal of the curse. However, Severus was a man who did not like to give away control over things he, in his opinion, should do by himself, but this time, Albus would not give in.

"Why can't you remember? Were you unconscious?" he kept on.

Severus closed his eyes briefly as if trying to chase away a particularly painful memory, and then Albus began to understand. "You don't want to remember, do you?"

Trying not to sound accusing, he laid a hand on Severus' shoulder in a soothing gesture, and for once, the sick wizard did not flinch or shrug it off. "Voldemort did terrible things to you, and I understand that remembering the curse must be terribly painful, but if we want to find a counter-curse, it is necessary."

The Potions master looked as if fighting hard against the tears threatening to his eyes. Not even in front of him would he admit any weakness, Albus thought sadly. However, the fact that Severus did not seem to trust his own voice anymore to give a scathing reply was more than evidence enough for his current frame of mind.

"I did some research and found four possible curses mentioned in some ancient tomes. I'm going to name them to you now, so you won't have to think too much about it." Albus decided to not mention Harry, Hermione, and Ron having helped with the research. It would only pour salt into an open wound.

Severus nodded curtly and continued staring at the ceiling. Albus sighed once again. As always, the boy did everything to hide his true emotions, even though he was failing pathetically.

The headmaster breathed deeply and stared at his hands lying in his lap for a moment. One of the curses would kill Severus in the course of the next few months and there was nothing that could be done to prevent it. What if it was this curse Voldemort had used on the young wizard in his sick sadism?

Albus rubbed the bridge of his nose with thumb and index finger. He wanted clarity, but he also dreaded Severus' answer to the question to come, and something inside him urged him to name this lethal curse last, hoping it would not be necessary after all.

Even though especially this curse would make terrible sense.

Again, he took a deep breath, and then looked at Severus. He had to know. "Enervare Mortvenenum?" he asked quickly.

Severus shook his head. "No."

Releasing the breath he was not even aware he had been holding, Albus felt a faint rush of relief wash over him, though some anxious doubt remained. "Are you absolutely sure it wasn't this curse, Severus?"

"Yes."

Still full of doubt, Albus surveyed the Potions master. His answers came a bit too quick and abrupt for his liking. It was obvious that Severus did not want to even cursorily think about what he had had to endure. Not that Albus could not understand this. According to what he had read, being robbed of his magic was a terrible shock to both body and soul of a wizard, and extremely painful, too. Comparable to having one's leg ripped off while fully conscious. He only hoped Severus was correct. If it was not any of the other three curses ...

Well, there was only one way to find out. Albus decided to rule out the most improbable one first. Voldemort would not have used a curse that would wear off by itself, would he? It would make little sense, if sense at all. Nevertheless, he had to ask, even if it was painful for Severus. "Was it Magica Pudidus?"

Again, he expected a short "No", yet Severus did not answer but clenched his eyes shut and seemed to concentrate so hard his whole body tensed.

"Severus?"

Not looking at him, the Slytherin nodded curtly.

Was it possible? As much as he wished it were, Albus could hardly believe it. It just could not be that easy. "This was the curse? Are you sure?"

The young wizard nodded again while inhaling slowly and deeply in an effort to control himself.

Upon mentioning the name of the curse, and although Albus had wanted to avoid it, Severus must still have recalled, and probably partly relived, the pain and the shock he had gone through back then. Albus was terribly sorry that he had had to do this to his friend, but his regrets were overpowered by a wave of enormous relief and joy, and he could not contain the broad grin that stole on his face.

"But this is wonderful, Severus! It means that your magic will return all by itself. You'll be able to do magic again. And, most probably, we will be able to heal your hands, too."

Enthusiastically, he grabbed both Severus' upper arms and only then noticed that the Potions master was still lying tense and with eyes closed and probably had not got his joy or the cause of it at all. Immediately, he felt a little guilty about having let himself be carried away by his enthusiasm while Severus was still caught in his terrible memories.

Gently, he began to massage the tense muscles beneath his hands. "Shush, my child. Try to relax. Everything will be all right. Steady now, steady."

For a long while, Albus kept on talking to the Slytherin in a soothing voice, and slowly, the man's body relaxed as he seemed to concentrate on the reassuring words. "That's a good boy. You only need time. The memories will fade, especially when your magic comes back again."

With a deep, rattling breath, Severus opened his eyes and looked up at the headmaster, the pain still visible in his eyes.

Albus laid a soothing hand on Severus' sunken and stubbly right cheek. "You'll see, everything will be just fine, my child. Your magic will return, and the memories will fade. We'll have you back in Hogwarts teaching Potions again within no time at all."

At those last words, Severus grimaced, and Albus smiled at him benevolently. "I know you don't appreciate the prospect of resuming to teach a bunch of noisy, hopeless dunderheads that much, but we'll take it slowly, and whenever you need help..." He straightened up in his chair and looked at Severus intently from over the top of his spectacles. "I will help you wherever I can. My door is always open for you, Severus. I hope you know this?"

Severus sighed in an absolutely un-Snapeish way. "I'm aware of it, headmaster."

Snape's businesslike tone, on the one hand, made Albus glad, but, at the same time, it saddened him to no end. It was the typical Snape-tone-of-voice the Slytherin used whenever Albus was trying to talk to him on a more personal level, but, on the other hand, it showed that he had overcome the previous episode. The Snape he knew never let anybody come close. Nevertheless, he would keep an eye on him.

And probably, it was time to give Severus something to distract his thoughts and direct them into a different direction. The prospect of retaliation would surely help his friend deal with his traumatic experiences and the painful loss of his magic.

"Do you remember our idea in case the plan with the poison wouldn't work, Severus?"

The young wizard looked at him suspiciously. "You mean Lupin's inane idea about using Muggle technology to spy on the Death Eaters?"

Albus smiled again. This sounded much more like the old Snape already. "Yes, that's what I mean. And contrary to what you might think, my boy, it seems to work pretty well. At heavily warded locations such as Malfoy Manor, we had to combine it with magic since there are powerful protective spells against everything Muggle in place, similar to those at Hogwarts, but Dobby managed to install them all."

Albus began informing Severus about what had happened during those months he had been away on his perilous mission, and slowly he had the reassuring feeling that the old Snape was back. At least in part. Trying his best to sound optimistic, he related the plan in as much detail as possible. The Slytherin had been treated in the worst possible way, and Albus knew from experience how unforgiving and vindictive the man could be. Presenting him with the prospect of being able to take revenge for what had been done to him, would, no doubt, help him recover much better than any medicine, be it Muggle or wizarding.

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TBC

WOW 34 REVIEWS FOR THE LAST CHAPTER! YOUR GUYS ARE AMAZING. A BIG THANK YOU!

Translated by the wonderful Persephone Lupin

Betaed by Sadistra and Slytherin's silver snake.


	54. Sirius' Secret Worries

Chapter 53:

_Sirius' Secret Worries _

'Nonono. Malfoy cannot be right. Please, no. Not Albus. He cares for me.'

_Don't worry, Severus. We'll find something where you can still be of use to the Order._

No, I don't want to be someone who is merely useful to the cause.'

_Again, you have failed, Severus. Whoever wants to be friends with someone like you without any ulterior motive? With a bitter, greasy, ugly looser like you?_

'Why have I given in? Why have I allowed them to break me? Why does everybody always triumph over me? They all can do with me whatever they want.'

_... Sirius having cut your hair._

'Nobody cares for a looser.'

_Snivellus._

'It's so cold here ...'

_You'll be able to do magic again._

'I know that you count on my help, Albus. I will help you. I owe it to you Even if I am no more but useful to you, you still gave me a second chance. I'll do everything to help you. Malfoy and Voldemort must die. That's all I have. All I have left to try to chase the beast away that has taken root in the very depths of my soul, winding its invisible tentacles around it, trying to draw it further and further into the darkness. Incessantly. Relentlessly ...

Contrary to what he expected, Albus found Sirius waiting at the foot of the staircase, pacing up and down worriedly, his arms crossed behind his back. When he heard the headmaster descend the stairs, the Animagus immediately stopped his pacing and looked up at the old wizard, quirking one eyebrow.

"Well?"

Albus smiled at him amusedly. "Although I don't know exactly how, Severus' magic will, most likely, come back all by itself after a while. Voldemort probably only wanted to scare him, and us as well, or he believed that with the prospect of having to live without magic, Severus would not recover."

Sirius frowned thoughtfully. "Is that so?"

Albus stepped down beside the Animagus and laid a hand on Sirius' shoulder before steering the younger man towards the living-room. "We had better discuss this over a cup of tea and together with the others," Albus said, grinning happily like a child that had just been locked up in the candy shop.

Shortly after, the six of them were sitting in Remus' small living room, the three students on the small sofa, the others in some faded armchairs. Albus was sipping pleasurably at a cup of tea he had conjured out of mid-air while Sirius thoroughly ignored the steaming liquid sitting on the table in front of him, looking morosely at his folded hands that were resting on his knees.

"So, he finally did remember?" he asked.

"At least he could tell which curse it was and which wasn't. That he did not want to recall what happened is only too understandable. How glad I am that his magic will come back eventually!"

"And why would Voldemort let him go after cursing him with a curse that doesn't make any sense at all because its effects will fade away again anyway?" Minerva asked sceptically.

Albus nodded pensively. "It doesn't seem to make sense, does it? However, the more I ponder over it, the more sense it does make. In his vision, Harry saw that Voldemort wanted to break Severus. Only, Severus is not a man you can easily break. He's much too callous and hardened and has lived through too much already. I had to get hold of some very rare old books to find the curses in question, and robbing a wizard of his magic is very difficult. Perhaps Voldemort knew only this one curse. Since he wanted to break Snape but obviously failed, this was his last and most cruel weapon, and he could be relatively certain that the curse was unknown to Severus. Moreover, as the boy was not supposed to survive the torture, it was of no importance that the curse would lose its effects eventually." Dumbledore smiled wryly. "Probably, Tom was frustrated because he did not reach his goal, and, unfortunately, a frustrated Voldemort is a dangerously vicious Voldemort."

"But he told us where to find the Professor," Hermione voiced her doubts.

"He surely did not expect Severus to survive. He wanted us to try everything to save him only to have him give up and die on us in spite of all our efforts. Sirius, Harry, you saw what condition Professor Snape was in when you found him. Most people tend to underestimate Severus, his perseverance and resilience, but there is more to the boy than meets the eye."

Sirius murmured something unintelligible under his breath.

"Pardon, what did you say?" the headmaster asked him politely.

The Animagus glared at Albus grumpily. "I, for my part, couldn't care less whether or not Snape's magic will come back. And I can't imagine _he_ is particularly interested, either."

Albus sighed at Sirius' defiant tone of voice. "Of course he is! Severus is a proud man, and the knowledge that he still has his magic and that we might even be able to heal his hands will, no doubt, help him immensely to cope with his traumatic experiences."

Sirius gave a grunt that strongly reminded Albus of his Animagus form. "Just how blind are you, Albus? Snape is finished. I have no idea what they did to him and how they did it, but he is totally ... shit, I don't know what he is myself, but he just is."

"Sirius, would you please be somewhat more precise?"

The Animagus jumped from his seat and resumed pacing up and down the room, the eyes of all the people present focused on him. "Damn, I just don't know! But I have the feeling that Snape has fallen into a severe depression."

At those last words, Sirius' voice acquired a slightly amazed quality as if he himself was surprised by what he was saying and he abruptly came to a halt.

No wonder, thought Albus. Severus Snape and depression in one and the same sentence was absolutely contradictable. Ron, too, seemed to be of that opinion since he barely managed to cover up a barking laugh as a coughing fit.

Hermione slapped him at the back of his head in indignation. "Ronald Weasley, that's not funny!"

Albus noticed that the expression of anger in both Harry's and Hermione's faces had given way to something that almost resembled worry, mixed with guilt. He sighed softly and looked at the Animagus.

"Sirius," Albus drawled the name thoughtfully. "Severus has had more than enough reason in his life to succumb to depression, but he's just not the type. He's much too proud and a true Slytherin. When he is hurt, he might withdraw into himself for a short while to lick his wounds, but he will always try to find a way to retaliate. Slytherins fight back. You should know that by now."

There was a hint of regret and accusation in Albus' voice. "You and James were often anything but nice to him, and I also failed to support him enough back at school. However, this made him strong in his peculiar way. Severus experienced terrible things during the last two weeks, but apart from his hands, which we will, with some luck and time, be able to heal, and his magic, which now will return too, he has faced worse already. As far as I have heard from him, your mother was a loving parent in comparison to Severus' father. As a child, Severus was constantly rejected from the very people who were supposed to love him. Before he came to Hogwarts, he had barely any upbringing that would merit the name. What happened at school you know yourself, and then the only way out for him turned out to be his greatest mistake. Nevertheless, none of this ever got him down. He always pulled himself together and scrambled to his feet again. He will do so this time, too. I will do everything to help him, however, I fear he won't accept any more help than absolutely necessary, even from me."

"No, Albus, I know you are wrong this time," Sirius insisted. Albus wondered whether the Gryffindor realised at all how much alike he and Severus actually were in their stubbornness. Regardless, there was a clear difference between the two.

"You must not make the mistake to judge Severus with Gryffindor measures, my boy. He's a Slytherin through and through."

"This doesn't have anything to do with it!"

"Oh yes it has. Listen, Sirius. You take care of Severus' physical condition and leave his mental state to somebody who doesn't have such a difficult past with him. Severus is a very emotional and proud man, and he will need some time, but he has always come out of any difficult situation with his head held high. And so he will this time, believe me."

At those words, Sirius' frustration turned into anger because Albus did not take his observations seriously enough. He was so convinced he was right about Snape. Yet, Albus knew the Slytherin much better and, what was even more important, the headmaster did not feel such intense disdain and loathing for the man as did he. Sirius had no idea what horrors the other wizard had gone through in his life already, and neither had he enough respect for him to admit that he might be able to deal with his traumatic experiences.

"Albus, you intended to explain our plan to the children, didn't you?" McGonagall steered the discussion away from Snape. Albus was silently grateful to her. He did not have the energy to fight with Sirius at the moment. The lad was almost as stubborn as Severus when he was convinced he was right about something. McGonagall understood better. She knew Severus and his history almost as fully as he did.

He nodded and directed his attention at the three teenagers. "What do you know about the Order of the Phoenix?" he asked.

Tearing his eyes away from his still frustrated godfather, Harry cleared his throat. "Isn't it something of a resistance group against Voldemort? You mentioned it on several occasions, Professor."

Again, Albus nodded. "The Order was founded during Voldemort's first reign. Since the measures of the Ministry were rather ... inefficient even then, a handful of idealistic men and women got together to fight him in a more organised way."

"Professor McGonagall, Professor Lupin and Sirius were among those fighters, right?" asked Hermione.

"Yes, and they are still today. As are Ron's parents."

Ron, who was just taking another sip from his cup of tea, gasped, swallowing the wrong way, and sputtered his tea all over the table, earning himself a reproving glare from McGonagall. "M-my parents?" he squeaked in disbelief when he had somewhat recovered from the initial surprise.

Albus could not suppress a smile. "Of course. They always were a great help."

Ron's eyes dilated when picturing his good-natured and, in his eyes, mostly unspectacular parents as 'fighters'. "My mom, too?"

The headmaster chuckled softly. "Don't tell me you never saw your mother when really angry?"

"O-of course I did," stuttered the redhead. "But then she threatens with the dish wash or weeding the garden, in the worst case scenario. But fight? With real Death Eaters?"

Harry was laughing softly by now and Albus joined in as the image of an irate Molly Weasley popped up in his head, waving a towel and threatening Voldemort with the dish wash.

"Mr. Weasley. Show some respect. Your mother is a highly respected member of the Order of the Phoenix, and contrary to what you might believe, she is a very gifted witch and a loyal fighter for the light," McGonagall reprimanded her student.

Ron collected himself again, but he still had difficulty to take the Transfigurations teacher's words too seriously. And Albus preferred it like this. The boy saw his mother as a loving, kind, and generous soul, and if he was not confronted with the stubborn and fiery witch his mother had been in her youth, only the better.

"Harry's parents were members, too, and, unfortunately, they were not our only losses back then."

This made Harry sober up instantly, and he looked at Dumbledore with so much expectation in his eyes as he only did when hoping to gain some new pieces of information on his late parents.

"We have a couple of new members, too. Severus Snape is one of them. Unfortunately, we are far from strong enough to risk an open war with Voldemort, therefore we are forced to resort to a more secretive strategy." He paused and looked at the teenagers gravely. "In order for you to understand, I have to go back in time quite a bit. As I already told Harry, it all began with a visitor from the future. To be more exact, it was Dobby who showed up in my office one day, looking terribly upset and frightened. He told us that we absolutely had to take some precautions to prevent certain things from happening that would inevitably lead to disaster. Especially for Harry."

As expected, Harry gasped in surprise and immediately opened his mouth wanting to say something, but Albus stopped him by raising his hand. "Let me finish my tale first, Harry." Sirius moved closer to his godson and laid a soothing hand on his shoulder as he had already done in Albus' office when the headmaster had told him parts of what had happened. Dumbledore nodded thankfully towards the Animagus who seemed to have calmed down somewhat in the meantime. Harry would need his comforting presence.

"According to Dobby, many things went wrong during the year that separated his time and ours. The trouble began with a member of the Ministry unleashing Dementors on Harry, which we, as we now knew both time and place, could have prevented. Moreover, this person would have come to Hogwarts as a professor, setting events into motion that would have played into Voldemort's hands. However, what would have been worst, the Dark Lord had started to manipulate Harry's mind into what ultimately resulted in somebody's death. This death, in turn, caused the Harry of the future to fall deep into depression. Dobby was extremely concerned and wanted to help Harry, and therefore he brought us the poison."

The three teenagers were staring at him wide-eyed, and Harry had paled slightly. "Who died?" he asked in a whisper.

Albus did not answer, but gazed meaningfully at Sirius. Instantly, Harry turned around with a jerk and looked up at his godfather anxiously. "You ...?"

Sirius nodded slowly and gravely, and Albus noticed a shudder running through the boy's body while he was clenching his fists. How ironic that, in the end, they had not been able to save Harry from what Dobby had wanted to spare him from. Because he, Albus Dumbledore, had not entrusted him with the truth. "It seems, dear boy," he said hesitantly, "that some mistakes cannot be avoided. Some people claim that it is impossible to change the past. That what happened cannot be reversed. Perhaps we changed a few details, perhaps we created new possibilities, but the truth is that, though we could avert a few things like Sirius' death, the involvement of the Ministry, and Voldemort's intrusion on your mind, some basic mistakes happened all the same. As far as I know, many things turned out differently. However, like in the alternate time warp, and as if the universe wanted to spite us, some fundamental things, which we wanted to change at all cost, unfortunately repeated themselves."

"Things? What things?" asked Ron, thoroughly confused by the headmaster's words.

"Dobby told me that, in the alternate time warp, the strong, but erroneous believe to do the right thing led to the final disaster. As it also did now. I did not trust Harry enough; I wanted to protect him too much and both times this led to something terrible. Luckily, this time we are able to correct the mistakes. The poison did not work, but since the Order wasn't informed anyway we devised another plan. Originally, it was Fred and George who sparked the idea with one of their latest inventions. The Order started to wiretap all known Death Eater homes and meeting places with magic combined with Muggle technology. And thus we learned of more meeting places. The members of the Order are constantly on the alert now, and those who are Aurors told some trustworthy colleagues to be ready, too. We have gathered quite an impressing number of fighters. Nevertheless, we will only attack when able to get at Voldemort when he is relatively on his own. Strike when less resistance is to be expected. Therefore, we can only wait patiently until one of the Death Eaters unintentionally gives us a tip."

For a moment, silence reigned as the information sank in. "And that's your plan?" Ron asked finally.

Dumbledore nodded.

"What if we won't catch him alone, or the tip never comes?" Hermione inquired.

"Then there will be no difference to just sit and wait for Voldemort to act. No advantage, but no harm done, either."

"And how did you manage to keep Voldemort from manipulating Harry's mind, Professor?" Hermione asked again.

"That was not easy, no. Originally, we intended to teach him how to occlude his mind from external penetration, but Dobby told us that we tried exactly this in the alternate time warp, but it didn't work. He couldn't tell why, though. However, I found a very ancient spell, which, combined with the lingering protection from his mother, partly fulfilled the job. Not completely as Harry's visions proved, but enough to not make Voldemort aware of the possibility."

Albus decided to wait some more before telling Harry about the prophecy. Of course, he had promised himself to not keep anything from the boy anymore, but it was not necessary to tell him everything at once. He was convinced that the prophecy would fulfil itself anyway, whether or not Harry knew about it, and there was no way the boy could prepare for it. No, he would not hide it from Harry, but for the moment it was not important that he knew. Let him first digest what he had learned so far.

T.B.C.

Sorry for the long wait. Persephone Lupin send me the translated chapter an eternity ago but I was very busy, renovating my kitchen and taking over a German Severus Snape page.

BTW. I created a SnapeAngst Community. If anyone wants to join, please feel free to ask me and I'll send out an invitation from the community.


	55. Dogvisit

Chapter 54:

_Dogvisit_

_2 ½ weeks later…_

The first frost of autumn was already covering the land, the trees had shed their leaves, and the sky seemed to constantly hide behind a thick, dampening layer of grey clouds.

Late fall used to arouse ambiguous feelings in Harry. On the one hand, it was at this time of the year that his parents had died, but on the other, this particular season with its calmness and the promise of the coming cold also held something comforting to him. At the moment, however, he perceived the cold as nothing more than that: cold.

Fingers-and-toes-numbing-and-constantly-making-him-shiver-cold.

That he was about five meters above ground riding a broom, the cold wind whipping his face, did not help much. He shot a look at Ron, who was hovering two meters away from him, his determined gaze fixed straight ahead. The redhead was clutching the handle of a school broom, which also had seen better days, trying with all his might to keep his teeth from chattering.

And they hadn't even been on their brooms for five minutes yet, hadn't begun with their warming up exercises, and the balls were still locked securely within the wooden chest.

This was sheer madness.

Determinedly, Harry steered his broom alongside Ron's.

"Hey, Ron, let's postpone the training. It's too damn cold," he said in an encouraging and comforting tone; at least he hoped it sounded encouraging and comforting in spite of his frozen cheeks and quivering lips.

"N-n-no, I w-won't g-g-go b-back t-to h-her!" answered Ron through the clatter of his teeth.

Harry sighed. Obviously, Ron did not take the cold any better than himself, quite the contrary, but his infamous Weasley stubbornness refused to admit it.

"It's not that bad, really."

"T-that's w-what y-you s-say. S-s-snape here, S-snape there. You could believe she was i-infatuated with the g-greasy git." His seething anger seemed to help Ron keep his stutter somewhat in check.

"And someone could think you were jealous," teased Harry.

"W-wha ...? I ... SURELY I'M NOT!" Ron roared indignantly. "And Snape of all people? Yikes, the thought alone is more than disgusting."

"She is simply worried about what Sirius said. Me too, if I'm honest. After all, the whole thing _was_ our fault."

Ron wrinkled his nose in disgust. "Now, don't you start with that worry-thing, too, mate. Dumbledore said he was all right. That's it. End of discussion. Stop mulling over it all the time, already."

"Dumbledore is not without ..." Harry began, but interrupted himself when Ron suddenly gasped, his gaze directed at the stands.

"Is he suicidal?"

Harry followed Ron's alarmed gaze, and indeed, on the stairs leading to the bottom gallery sat a huge black dog, looking up at them with big puppy eyes and wagging his bushy tail carelessly.

Just in time, Harry managed to keep himself from crying out the name of his godfather, and instead, he looked around nervously. What if there was somebody watching? What if one of the Aurors caught sight of the dog? But the stands were empty except for Sirius who, now that he had their attention, stood up, wagging his tail even more enthusiastically than before. Harry was not sure to which degree the dog instincts took over when Sirius transformed, but it looked suspiciously as if he would start barking happily any moment now.

Before this could happen, Harry steered his broom towards the ground and landed beside the dog, closely followed by Ron.

"Sirius, what are you doing here?" he whispered and looked around nervously. The huge black dog was hackling and panting happily, seemingly oblivious to the danger.

"Shush, be quiet, or somebody will see you. This place is crawling with Aurors," cautioned Harry, laying an imploring hand on the dog's muzzle.

"We better clear off, guys. Let's go hide somewhere," urged Ron.

Harry nodded. "Hagrid's hut. It's not far, and the Aurors never go there."

"No wonder, now that he is raising the Skelties there," mumbled Ron.

Harry grimaced. Hagrid had found the young Skelties wounded and dying, and now it was held in an enclosure next to his hut. Although the animal was tied securely and Dumbledore had cast a spell over the enclosure that kept it under control, the beast was so ugly and terror-inspiring that everybody, who had a choice in this matter, wisely kept away from it. Except for Hagrid, of course, but Hagrid even considered gigantic spiders like Aragog beautiful...

"Okay then. But careful, Ron. You go ahead a few meters and check whether the coast is clear. I'll follow with Snuffles."

Ron nodded, tucked his broom under his arm, and together the two students rushed down the stairs, the dog close by their side.

Having reached the ground, they paused for a moment hiding behind a pillar draped in scarlet cloth.

"Nobody there," whispered Ron, nodding to Harry, and then the gangly redhead began to cross the lawn with wide strides, heading into the direction where, as Harry knew, Hagrid's hut was situated in a little valley just behind a shallow hill.

Since November was unusually cold and unfriendly this year, Ron did not really expect to meet anybody. Nobody would go outside voluntarily if he could help it.

Sirius gazed after the youngest Weasley boy who was hurrying away, and then up at Harry before starting to follow Ron. Harry quickly grasped inside the dense and fluffy fur around the dog's neck and restrained him, something the Animagus answered with an indignant whine. "No, Snuffles. Wait. We don't know yet whether there are Aurors around."

At that moment, Ron had reached the top of the hill. He looked around carefully, and then signalled that all was clear.

"Come on, Sirius," Harry said, releasing the dog from his grasp. He jogged over the lawn towards his best friend, who was still on the lookout.

Sirius followed Harry enthusiastically, though his ears were twitching nervously and he held his nose high into the air as if searching for telltale scents. Apparently, he, too, was finally aware of the danger. Harry made a mental note to ask his godfather about some details of being an Animagus, especially about the changes to his human intellect, as soon as the opportunity arose. Sometimes, he had the impression that Snuffles was aware of everything that happened around him and that his human intelligence and his ability to make decisions were fully at work, but then, the very next moment, he simply appeared as playful and careless as any other dog.

He reached Ron who nodded to him again, and together they hurried towards Hagrid's slightly crooked hut that was now visible in the valley close to the Forbidden Forest.

Beside the house, where usually the enclosures holding all kinds of magical creatures for Hagrid's classes were located, a three-meter high wall made of raw planks had been erected instead of a fence. Harry frowned, but preferred not to ponder on this too much. Most probably, it was another security measure.

When they approached the hut, they were greeted by an eerie, screeching howl that emerged from behind the wooden wall, reminiscent of a dying horse. Suppressing a shudder, Harry quickened his steps.

Even before they had reached the door, it swung open and the half-giant emerged in the door-frame, holding a club in one of his enormous paws, his black eyes flashing maliciously.

"What d'ya want now, ya bloody blood-suckers ... Oh, 'tis you guys. Thought the Aurors ... But jus' come on in, folks."

Harry, Ron and the dog squeezed past Hagrid who had retreated from the door a little. Inside the hut, Harry stopped short. They were not the only visitors. Sirius barked in happy surprise at seeing Remus sitting at the round table. The werewolf smiled at them, and Dobby, who was kneeling on a chair beside the former Defence teacher so that his nose and mouth were just visible over the edge of the table, grinned broadly, the corners of his mouth almost reaching his ears.

"Harry Potter!" the tiny creature exclaimed excitedly, jumping up from his chair and rushing over to Harry, merrily grabbing both the boy's hands. "Me is so happy to see Harry Potter, sir!"

"Let the poor lad breathe, Dobby," grumbled Hagrid and shooed the house elf back to his seat. "You folks are jus' in time for tea," he said, nodding at the two teenagers.

"And to what do we owe the honour of your visit, pray tell?" asked Remus with a meaningful and not too pleased glance at the huge black dog.

Harry looked down at the Animagus. "That's what I'd also like to know, Sirius. Do you realise at all how dangerous this is?"

Sirius was decent enough to change into his human form; however, he ignored Harry's question. With a deep sigh, he walked up to a chair and slumped down on it back to front. Crossing his arms on the backrest, he looked up at his godson, irritated. All semblance of the joy he had radiated as a dog was thoroughly gone.

Harry noticed the dark shadow around his godfather's eye sockets and the overall exhausted impression he gave.

"That's right, just you go and make life difficult for me, too, Harry," Sirius complained, glaring at his godson.

"What's wrong, Sirius?" Remus asked carefully.

Sirius buried his face in his arms. "Snape," he simply said as if the name alone explained all the secrets of the universe.

"Pestering you again?" Ron asked with a sympathetic grin.

"When does the greasy git possibly not peeve everybody around him to death?" Sirius asked back, thus drawing Remus' reprimanding glance, which had been directed at Ron, upon himself instead.

"Hmm, well ..." Hagrid said slightly uncertain. "D'ya want tea?"

Harry was just about to answer when Sirius suddenly jumped to his feet and began to pace the small room, something that turned out to be far from easy since the room did not provide nearly adequate space with all the tubs, traps and containers Hagrid kept standing around there.

"I cannot stand this much longer," Sirius ranted. "Albus said we would soon be able to transfer him to headquarters, but in the meantime the stupid idiot is falling to pieces. For weeks I've tried to convince the headmaster, but he, of course, refuses to see it. Snape is finished, and Albus expects me of all people to help the git recover and get him back on his feet again..."

Remus had risen, too, and now stepped into his friend's way, halting his agitated pacing with a hand on his shoulder. "You better calm down now, Padfoot. Relax, sit down, and have some tea."

Sighing once more, the Animagus lowered himself onto the chair again, this time the proper way round. At Hagrid beckon, Harry and Ron followed his example and sat on the two remaining chairs while the half-giant turned around to tend to the kettle suspended over the merrily burning fireplace.

"Sirius," began the werewolf carefully. "Are you absolutely sure about Snape?"

Sirius glared at his friend angrily. "You don't believe me, either, do you?"

"That's not what I said, Sirius. It would be only too understandable if Severus broke down after what was done to him and his magic, but it's also true that many ugly things happened to him in his life and he seems to have shaken them off quite easily. He's someone who reacts with anger, not resignation. He's always done that. For him, there are only two opinions or possibilities, his own one and the wrong one. Snape is the epitome of pride and has never shown any self-pity as long as we've known him. Moreover, when I saw him last, he didn't exactly make the impression of having lost himself to depression. He lashed out verbally in all directions pretty much as usual."

"An' Professor Dumbledore said he was a'right," said Hagrid without turning away from the fire. "Dumbledore knows best."

"Yes," nodded Dobby, his large ears flapping. "Headmaster Dumbledore always knows what is best."

In spite of feeling like an intruder upon Snape's privacy whilst listening in on the grown-ups' discussion, Harry's curiosity was roused, and he kept quiet so the adults would not suddenly realise what they were doing and throw Ron and him out or change the subject. A sidelong glance at Ron revealed to him that his friend was sitting on the edge of his chair, like him hanging on the adults' every word.

"Dumbledore is not all-knowing," Sirius insisted. "And neither are you. I've known Snape for many years now, and I tell you, he's finished. Oh, he's just as mean and insufferable as ever, but besides this, something about Snape's behaviour is just wrong. Something I cannot put my finger on quite yet, but it's nagging at my thoughts whenever I talk to him. Snape's just not _Snape_ anymore. Physically, he's still present to be sure, although damaged quite a bit there, too. But his entire behaviour has changed. He answers venomously but without any subtlety, let alone his trade-mark sarcasm, or he withdraws into himself completely. And then there are the nightmares..."

"Nightmares?" asked Hagrid, glancing over his shoulder.

Sirius nodded. "The git doesn't admit it, of course, and snaps at me when I wake him up, but he almost never sleeps soundly. He moves around a lot, all the time murmuring unintelligible stuff in his sleep."

For a while, neither Hagrid nor Remus said a word, and something akin to the first signs of doubt showed on their faces. Could it really be possible that Sirius was right about Snape? After all, Harry had first-hand experience that Dumbledore did err occasionally.

Only Dobby was as convinced as ever. He shook his head vehemently, making his ears flap wildly around his head. "If Professor Dumbledore says Professor Snape is okay, then Professor Snape is okay, me knows it."

"Please, keep an eye on him, Padfoot, all right?" Remus finally said in a low voice. "That's all we can do at the moment. If it turns out that you are correct, then we must help him through somehow. Unfortunately, professional help is out of the question since he is still a runaway murderer, officially."

Sirius had lowered his gaze looking at his lap and nodded with a frown. "This is getting better and better. Now I'm promoted to babysitter. Shall I hold his hand, too? Why doesn't somebody Avada Kedavra me already and release me from my sufferings?"

Remus chuckled softly. "What about his magic?" he asked then, serious again.

Sirius shrugged. "Better, I suppose. Now, we make it all the way to the door before there is a reaction. But then, it's really bad."

"Huh?" asked Ron.

Sirius was about to answer when he was interrupted by Hagrid who put three mugs with steaming tea on the table in front of the newcomers. Contrary to his habit, he did not ask whether they wanted cookies. Apparently, he, as well as Harry, thought the discussion too important to distract Sirius more than necessary.

"As you all know, the effect of Voldemort's curse is fading away of its own," the Animagus began.

"Unfortunately, we do not know how fast. Therefore, we started testing Severus' reaction to magic," Remus continued. "Beginning with a simple Lumos, we entered the house with the magically active wand while Poppy was monitoring Snape's condition. Over the last weeks, we've been able to come closer to his room steadily before he reacted to the magic. The whole thing is very nerve-wrecking and stressful. Especially for Severus. As soon as the magic becomes too much for him, his circulatory system runs amok. The magic affects his heart. At the moment, Poppy still treats him with Muggle medicine, but she says that she's going to try potions again as soon as he can tolerate magic in the immediate vicinity."

"Meaning that we'll be able to bring him to headquarters before Christmas, hopefully, so Harry and I can have a real Christmas together. And if not, we two will spend the holidays in the hut," Sirius said, gazing at Harry. "You'll visit me during Christmas break, won't you?"

Ron opened his mouth, but Harry was first to speak. "I already promised Ron to go to the Burrow with him," he said contritely. He really did not want to hurt or disappoint his godfather, but the "Oh" and the sagging shoulders indicated only too clearly that he was doing exactly that.

"But we can spend some time together after Christmas," he said quickly.

Sirius sighed and nodded, still somewhat disappointed. "What about you, Moony?" he turned to his childhood friend. "Are you coming at least?"

Remus shook his head regretfully. "It's the full moon on Christmas, and without the wolfsbane potion..."

An uncomfortable silence settled about the occupants of the hut, the only sound audible being Ron's nervous shuffling with one of his feet.

Harry knew just how disappointed his godfather was. Apparently, he had counted on Harry spending the holidays with him. The man's disappointment was almost palpable, and he hated failing to fulfil his godfather's hopes and expectations. After his many years in Azkaban, Sirius had, probably more than anybody else, a need and surely also a right to company and a sense of belonging. However, he had promised his friend, and he would not break his promise.

"Perhaps they'll already have transferred Snape by then, and you can join us at the Burrow, right Ron?" he asked quickly, earning himself a vague nod from his best friend.

Sirius forced a smile. "It's all right, Harry. We still have many Christmases and other holidays coming that we can spend together. Most probably, Snape won't be well enough for transport anyway, and with him in the house it wouldn't be that much fun after all."

Harry knew that he himself looked at least as unhappy as Sirius.

Ron cleared his throat. "Perhaps you should join Sirius for Christmas, mate," he said softly.

Harry looked at him amazed. "No, Ron. I promised you and your mom."

Ron shrugged. "Whatever. Mom will understand. And we see each other almost every day all year. I'll survive, even though it would mean I'll be the only victim for the twins' pranks," he grinned.

Harry wondered whether the grin was just an act, but it seemed open and genuine.

"Come on, mate. You really should have the opportunity to get to know your godfather a bit better. But ... could I borrow your Invisibility cloak over the holidays? I'd love to have the upper hand over Fred and George for once and let them swallow a piece of their own medicine." He winked at Harry mischievously, his grin widening into a contagious laughter. Harry couldn't help but join in.

"Deal. But make sure you bring it back safely. And I want details, 'kay?"

Ron chuckled an "okay", and then turned to Sirius. "And you tell Harry all about the pranks you played on Snape back when you were students. I want something to laugh at , too."

Sirius only grinned, bent forward a bit and mimed a slight bow. "It will be an honour for me, Ron."

---------------------------------------

TBC

--------------------------------

I have to make a small correction. I've been telling you guys that two people would learn about what happened to Snape and that two major characters would die in this fic. Well, that's not quite true. Three people will know and three people will die. (Forgot one:-P)


	56. Nightmares

Chapter 55:

_Nightmares:_

_"Please, mean man, don't hurt me."_

_The huge, hazel eyes were drowning in tears. Tears that poured down the child's soft cheeks. The girl's voice was shaky and ragged with heavy sobs whilst she pleaded with him, pure terror and fear in every syllable. A fear of being hurt. A fear of what she had been forced to witness, but could not understand. Fear of the instinctive knowledge that soon something horrible would happen to her, something she could not comprehend in her childish innocence. _

_He was kneeling on the ground, positioned on all fours in front of a battered bowl with mouldy, maggot-infested bread. He knew that he should be hungry, but at the moment his dominant feeling was disgust. Disgust and gut-clenching fear of what his sub consciousness knew would happen._

_He could not eat this. His stomach would rebel and the child would die. _

_A sneering voice reverberated from everywhere around him. Lucius Malfoy came into view, emerging from behind the girl, a knife in his hand, cutting her throat open with a single fluid movement. The tear-filled eyes widened with horror, surprise and pain, and from the girl's throat sprang a fountain of tiny, white, maggots. Millions of maggots. The wriggling flood would not cease and was moving incessantly towards him over the floor like a white, thick, and suffocating tide. With a scream, Severus jumped to his feet and staggered backwards, only to end up on his behind. The wave of writhing maggots moved closer and closer, and Severus slid backwards as far away as he could until his back made contact with a wall, making any further retreat impossible. _

_They would soon reach him, bury him, eat through his defenceless body, and devour him alive. _

_In helpless panic, he covered his head with his hands and brought his legs close to his chest, making himself as small as possible, trying to merge into the wall._

It was two days after the start of Christmas break and Harry's arrival at the hut. Much to Sirius' dismay, Poppy had not given her okay for transferring Snape to headquarters yet, although he did tolerate magic very close to him by now, as well as weak potions which were regularly administered to him. The Mediwitch had explained that he first had to build up enough strength for the straining transport by portkey. The Aurors had left the school only one day before the beginning of the holidays because a certain Mundungus Fletcher had started the rumour in certain circles that Snape had been seen repeatedly in Knockturn Alley. Promptly, more witnesses came forth, suddenly claiming to have seen the man lurking in a dark corner or disappearing down a gloomy side-alley. Tonks' skills had often come in handy and were also an enormous help as of now.

At least now that all the Death Eater houses were cabled and the Order was not searching for new potential hide-outs anymore, its members were able to dedicate themselves to the 'less urgent' tasks, like the Snape-problem. Nevertheless, Sirius was more than frustrated. For the very first time, he would finally have been able to spend two full weeks with his godson, but instead he had to look after Snape time and time again, all because the man was not yet well enough for transport. If he had not known better, he would have suspected the greasy git was doing it on purpose, just to spite him.

This time, Harry and Sirius were at a game of chess when they heard a scream from Snape's room, followed by a loud thud.

"Hell and damnation! Can one never have a single minute of peace in this goddamn place?" Sirius swore, while jumping to his feet and hurrying up the stairs towards the Slytherin's room, Harry close at his heels.

The sight that greeted them in Snape's room, however, made them stop dead in their tracks. The bed was empty, and the Potions master was cowering on the floor, his body pressed hard against the wall, shielding his head with both hands and whimpering softly, his entire body trembling.

"What ..." Harry began, too shocked to continue.

"Nightmare. Three times damned," Sirius answered curtly, and then approached the cowering man. "Snape! Wake up!" he ordered as he crossed the room. Snape only reacted by trying to squeeze up even closer, his whimpering increasing in volume. Sirius glanced over at Harry who was still standing by the door visibly shaken staring at his Potions teacher with his mouth agape.

Bending down, Sirius shook Snape none too gently by the shoulder. "Wake up already ... SNAPE!"

Finally, the whimpering stopped. Hesitantly, Snape lowered his hands and stared at Sirius, whilst recognition slowly lightened in the widened eyes.

"Black?" Snape's voice was shaky, and for a moment the man seemed to be unsure whether it truly was Sirius bending over him or if he was still caught in his dream.

Snape looked around, and at seeing Harry, his face contorted into an angry grimace within a fraction of a second as he was catapulted back into reality. "What are you two doing here?" he hissed.

"Believe me, we aren't particularly eager to hold your hand when you are having bad dreams either, Snape," answered Sirius no less unfriendly, and Snape briefly lowered his gaze but did not retort.

Finally recovering from his initial shock, Harry rushed over to Snape and kneeled down at his teacher's side. "Come, Professor. We'll help you back to bed." He extended one hand to the wizard on the floor in a well-meant gesture of piece, well aware of the fact that Snape would not be able to grip it with his injured hands, but the Potions master only stared at him with utter loathing in his eyes.

"I definitely don't need your bloody help, Potter," he spat at the youth. "How dare you be here at all! Even if you were the last living human on earth, I wouldn't want your help! DAMN, GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE OR I SWEAR YOU'LL REGRET EVER HAVING SET FOOT INTO THIS ROOM!"

Harry drew back his hand as if he had burnt himself.

"Yes, of course, Snape, and with your feet and hands you'll surely make it back to bed on your own, no problem," Sirius remarked sarcastically, although with less edge to it than before. "Nothing but empty threats. Or do you prefer to spend the remainder of the night on the floor? No, just forget that. Not after I've had to sacrifice all those dozens of nights of well-earned sleep only to make sure you wouldn't get bed sores. Harry, take his other arm." With this command, and before Snape could react, he had already gripped Snape's left arm, and together with Harry, who took his right arm, he lifted the sick wizard to his feet and more carried than supported him back to his bed, where they left him sitting on the edge after Harry had rearranged the rumpled sheets with his wand.

Snape was clenching his teeth and seemed to be in great pain after having had to support some of his weight on his injured feet. His breathing came in heavy, forced pants. He still had hardly any strength and was much too light for his height, Sirius observed critically.

"You bastards. Enjoying yourselves tremendously, aren't you, Black?" gasped Snape. Sirius only smiled, but did not respond. They helped the man lie down, and Snape was too exhausted to put up a fight.

Harry covered the still heavily breathing and glaring wizard with the blanket, and Sirius measured a few drops of some liquid from a small vial into a teaspoon that still sat on the nightstand from the last dose of Strengthening Potion.

"What is it?" asked Harry, while Snape eyed the vial sceptically.

"Dreamless Sleep Potion."

Snape's eyes widened briefly as he understood.

"But Sirius, won't this be dangerous? Madame Pomfrey hasn't allowed any additional potions yet."

"I, for my part, don't feel much inclined to having our game of chess interrupted once again just so we can put Snape back to bed."

"Did I ask for your help? If only I could, I'd hex the both of you for your interference so you'd never forget it," Snape threatened, seething with anger.

As before, Sirius only smiled and then looked at his godson. "Just you go downstairs, Harry. I'll manage alone now."

The boy nodded and left the room silently, while Sirius turned to Snape again.

"Don't you make a fuss, Snape. I won't let you and your nightmares ruin these few days Harry and I are having together. And they surely aren't that much fun for you, either."

Snape shot Black a murderous glare. However, he let the Animagus administer the drops without protest. Afterward, he turned wordlessly, and with a lot of effort, onto his side, away from Sirius, his face contorted with pain. The Animagus frowned shortly before putting back the spoon and leaving the room.

Sirius had well noticed the relieved expression in Snape's eyes when measuring the drops. He had felt slightly guilty about the trace of satisfaction that had overcome him then. Still, it was becoming more and more obvious that he was correct in his assessment of Snape's mental condition, and the feeling of having noticed something even the great Albus Dumbledore had not was something so rare that he wanted to thoroughly enjoy it. The demons haunting the Slytherin must indeed be horrible. They seemed to tear badly at Snape's sanity and had long ago worn down any semblance of hope and resilience the man might have possessed. Not that he was concerned about Snape in any way. No. He himself could tell a thing or two about demons. In Azkaban, with several Dementors lurking in front of the door of his cell, his sleep had rarely been without nightmares. Anyhow, he was right and Dumbledore was wrong. By now, he was absolutely convinced of that. He only needed to prove it to the headmaster somehow...

But why had nobody else noticed that Snape was acting out of character? Okay, it mostly showed in minor details like, for example, his answers which were so totally unlike the vicious sarcasm and cutting words the Potions master had kept on spouting all-day before his captivity. That must be it. Sirius even provoked him on purpose, but Snape hardly ever responded. He had fallen into an exclusively defensive stance, and that was something Black was not used to at all from the Slytherin.

Well, with his charming personality, the man himself had seen to that nobody in their right mind would make any efforts to befriend him. No wonder no-one had noticed a thing.

Sirius cursed under his breath. Again and again, he had tried to talk himself into that Snape's well-being was of absolutely no concern to him, but deep down he knew that this was not entirely true. For the very first time, part of him, a part he would prefer being able to switch off or erase, did not have the desire to hurt the man. It would have been like kicking a puppy, and this thought alone was highly disconcerting to Sirius. Damn, if he was not on his guard, he might one day end up pitying the Slytherin. How low could he sink, really? Had to be the twelve years of Azkaban. There was no other possible explanation.

T.B.C.

Translated by Persephone Lupin.

Betaed by Slytherin's silver snake and Sadistra


	57. Finally free

Chapter 56:

_Finally free!_

Sirius found Harry sitting at the kitchen table, his pensive gaze directed at the wooden top from which he was absentmindedly scraping away at an imaginary stain. Sighing, he sat down opposite his godson. Sirius knew that the boy should definitely not be here, witnessing scenes like that. Nevertheless, his egotistic self was only too happy to be able to finally spend some time with James' son. If only Snape were not here...

"What was wrong with him?" asked Harry into the tabletop.

"He was having a flashback or a nightmare. Or quite possibly both. I don't know. He surely gathered enough ammunition for several years of nightmares during his captivity."

Harry looked up at his godfather, a strange mixture of guilt and confusion in his eyes. "When I confessed to him that it had been me who betrayed him, Snape reacted rather composed. He took it almost calmly ... well, for his standard that is…. And now that I only wanted to help, he completely freaked out; he even started to shout."

Sirius held the boy's gaze with suddenly felt pity. No, the boy really should _not_ be here. " Well..." He hesitated a moment. "Despite the fact that Snape likes to make himself look like an intrepid bastard, I think that he is afraid of us."

"Afraid? Of us?" Harry's eyes widened in surprise and disbelief.

Sirius nodded and his voice quieted into a hesitant whisper. He would never have thought that he would ever say something like that about Snape of all people, but in the hours in which he had been musing over his 'patient', thinking how best to convince Albus that he was right in his assumptions, he had reached a rather unpleasant conclusion. These were certain things that only accented Snape's already strong sense of mistrust. Unfortunately, some events from their childhood, which were partly his doings too, and of which he had felt prouder of back then as he did today, did only enforced it all. "Yes. You see, from his point of view, it was only to be expected that you would betray him. You are James Potter's son, mind. But us actually wanting to help him, he cannot buy. Unfortunately, he doesn't have much reason to do so, either."

"Why? Because of the Shrieking Shack incident?"

Sirius shook his head. "Not only that. You know Snape wasn't exactly popular at school. James and I couldn't stand the sight of him, and we let him know it, too. He was an easy target. Unpopular, ugly, odd and mean. And the greasy git always reacted to our pranks and teasing and did retaliate with almost as good as he got, and that with means something bordering on the dark arts. Still, there were four of us. Okay, three since Remus almost never joined in, but it was always three against one, and we did some really nasty things and humiliated Snape in front of the entire school. Back then, it seemed hilarious to flip him upside down and take off his underpants in front of the whole student body. We justified our bullying, claiming that the idiot deserved no better. He was the mean Slytherin who knew no scruples and we wanted to hurt him. He had an almost worse character than Draco Malfoy, you know. And then there was the Shrieking Shack, where he could have been killed. Snape is convinced that I will turn on him, stabbing him in the back any second like I would have as a boy and because you are James' son he expects the same from you."

"But he _did_ provoke you!" Harry exclaimed, who had turned a shade paler at Sirius's retelling of the prank with the underpants. "Had he not done so, you surely had left him alone."

Sirius lowered his head, suddenly not able to look into the trusting, hopeful eyes of his godson, and much to his indignation he felt the blood rush to his cheeks. Should he lie to the boy? Harry would only need to ask Remus, or worse, Snape himself, and he would for all time lose any trust in the honesty of his godfather.

"Honestly speaking, we didn't always need a provocation on his part to attack him", he begun hesitatingly and he dove into his own memories of James, the marauders and the probably happiest time of his life, surrounded by friends and acceptance. "We were young and Snape was our chosen enemy, who mostly existed to have the stuffing knocked out of him by us. We were popular with almost everybody at school, except for the Slytherins of course, and getting one over him was regarded as cool. Sometimes we attacked him just because we could do it, or, like the thing with the underpants, to impress others." He looked up, searching for an understanding about immature, foolish teenager stupidities in Harry's eyes but finding nothing but shock and disgust in them.

Sirius swore under his breath. Somehow, the whole story had come out wrong and too late. Sirius remembered Harry telling him how hard it had been for him to be outcast and ridiculed in front of the whole school. He shouldn't have told Harry about the 'not so heroic' actions of the marauders. Now, James' son would think that they had been the only ones culpable. Why did he ever have to let himself get carried away that way and feel sorry for Snape? That's what it had gotten him into now. It wasn't even remotely true that Snape was innocent. Far from it. At that thought, he even managed to stir some of the old, well known flicker of hate in his heart again, but the flame didn't manage to fill his whole being and only stayed an unpleasant, warm feeling in his belly.

"Besides, Snape did dish out his share too, and he knew his hexes, I can tell you, " he added in an almost pleading tone of voice. Sirius regretted his words almost immediately when Harry didn't answer. Admittedly, the answer, in Harry's eyes was probably more than insufficient.

Oppressive silence filled the room.

Harry's eyes were opened wide, his face mirroring various conflicting emotions, none of them positive.

"This can't be true. I mean, it's always he who is so mean. You just wouldn't attack anybody without being provoked in he first place, would you? And Dad ..."

Sirius hated himself for having started on the topic at all. "James was a good man, Harry, and you shouldn't think of him differently because of some youthful stupidities. Besides, you cannot possibly understand what was going on between us Marauders and Snape back then. Snape wasn't an angel. Far from it. Otherwise it wouldn't have been half the fun anyway." Sirius tried unsuccessfully to chase a small smirk at this thought.

Harry swallowed hard and once again fixed his gaze onto the tabletop.

"Harry ..." began Sirius. He had to try at least, to explain to the boy what had happened back then. He owed it to his best friend. The memory was all that remained of James and Sirius would not let this memory become tainted in his only son's eyes. And certainly not because of Snape.

However, he was interrupted by a loud rapping at the door.

Sirius cursed under his breath. "Harry," he tried once again, not willing to let the matter rest so easily.

"It's okay, Sirius."

"Harry, look at me."

After one never-ending second, the teenager finally looked up and met his godfather's gaze. There was too much disappointment in his eyes to make Sirius comfortable.

"We're going to talk about it, Harry. Promised. But please, don't think badly of your father, okay?"

The boy nodded, but the confidence he was trying to display did not reach his eyes.

Once again, the knocking was to be heard, this time even more insistent than before. With a last and almost desperate glance at Harry and sighing softly, Sirius rose to open the door. Originally, only Albus, Remus, and Pomfrey knew about this place, but they would just enter without knocking, wouldn't they? It could hardly be an enemy, since enemies would not bother to knock before they attacked. The door was never locked, anyway. Moreover, the magical wards around the hut would have sounded the alarm. Remus had developed those wards on the basis of a simple foeglass himself and they were very reliable and effective.

When he opened the door, Sirius found himself staring into the grinning faces of Nymphadora Tonks and the tall, dark Kingsley Shacklebolt.

"What on earth are you doing here?"

Tonks was still grinning broadly when answering. "Dumbledore sent us."

"Why? I thought you were busy monitoring the Death Eater hide-outs?"

"We were indeed," Shacklebolt said in his deep baritone. "However, at the moment, there isn't much to do except for waiting and continue with the bugging. We have set up control at headquarters. Momentarily, it's Dung and Molly's turn to monitor any Death Eater activity. We are always on the alert, and all the members, who can do so without raising suspicion, stay at headquarters as often as possible. The others are ready on call any minute, too. As soon as the signal is given, we'll attack."

At this moment, Sirius remembered his manners and made an inviting gesture with his hands.

"Well, just come on in, then. It's bloody cold outside. You haven't come to spend Christmas with us, have you? That would be rather futile. Harry and I will go to the Burrow for Christmas eve. Snape will surely manage alone for a few hours. Albus cannot rob us of every fun."

"Sorry, but this will hardly work, dear cousin," said Tonks while she and Kingsley entered the hut.

Sirius snorted. "And why, pray tell? If you have any objections, you are welcome to take over the baby-sitting. I, for my part, am going to have a true Christmas with my godson whether you like it or not." He crossed his arms over his chest to lend emphasise to his point.

"Then you're going to be rather alone at the Borrow since the entire Weasley family is staying at Grimmauld Place," Tonks giggled.

"What's going on?" came Harry's voice from the kitchen. Shortly after, the teen stepped into the hall, eyeing the two Aurors critically and with unconcealed curiosity. "Oh, visitors?"

"Yes," answered Sirius. "These here are Nymphadora Tonks and Kingsley Shacklebolt. Both Aurors and members of the Phoenix order."

Harry's eyes widened as Tonks stepped closer to him before bowing to him theatrically.

"In flesh and blood."

For a moment, Harry's gaze lingered at the neon-yellow hair that was styled back (it looked like it had been in a wind tunnel just prior to their arrival at the hut), before composing himself and giving her a welcoming nod. "My pleasure."

Tonks had noticed his gaze nonetheless and started to giggle again while reverently tracing one particularly pointed lock that jutted out backwards. "You don't think green would suit me better, do you?"

The same moment, her hair changed colours, now displaying an almost blinding neon-green. Harry's eyes almost popped out of their sockets in astonishment.

"Tonks, stop showing off," chided Shacklebolt good-naturedly.

"I'm not showing off," the young Auror objected.

"Sure you do. Why else would you demonstrate this ability of yours whenever you meet a new kid." Turning to Harry, he explained, "Tonks is a Metamorphmagus. She can change her appearance at will."

"I really appreciate your coming here," Sirius interrupted them. "But would you be so kind as to explain why already?"

"As I told you, Albus sent us," Tonks said, now serious again. "Poppy will also be here soon. We are to take Snape to headquarters."

For a short moment, Sirius thought he had not heard correctly. This could not actually happen, could it? "I'm rid of him? I'M RID OF HIM!" Sirius felt like hugging the entire planet. However, he contented himself with throwing his arms around Harry and, overjoyed, spinning him around so violently that the teen almost lost his footing.

"There still is a God. Harry, we're going to spend a wonderful Christmas! Undisturbed nights, people to talk to who don't pour poison over you as soon as they open their mouth ... and the best is," he shuddered in disgust, "I finally won't have to spoon-feed Snape anymore, nor help him to the loo!"

A chuckling sound made him stop. Tonks was trying hard to suppress her laughter and Shacklebolt was grinning in a condescending, self-satisfied manner. Only Harry obviously did not enjoy his godfather's description of Snape's helplessness in such a private matter. He was staring at the floor, scraping the carpet with one of his feet in discomfort, almost making Sirius regret his thoughtless words a little. Snape had succeeded admirably in making practically all the members of the Order dislike him and they might use this embarrassing information against the man later on. Sirius shrugged. It was solely the git's own fault.

"Well, then get him out of here. I'm off packing. Harry, are you coming too?" he asked.

"Just wait a minute, Sirius," Tonks called after him. When Sirius turned around, she threw a small pebble at him, which he caught effortlessly with one hand. "Your portkey so you can take Harry to headquarters," she grinned. "Without it, he wouldn't be able to leave this place." She looked up the stairs, frowning. "Kingsley and I are going to wait for Poppy before moving Snape. She wants to make sure there were no negative reactions to the Strengthening Potion she gave him this morning and that its effects have dissipated sufficiently by now."

"Well, there might be a minor problem..."

"What problem?" echoed a new voice through the hall, and Sirius turned around to see Poppy Pomfrey standing in the still open doorway. "Please don't tell me that you have caused even more problems again, Mr. Black."

"That guy up there is the only one causing problems," Sirius growled at her. "The git was having a nightmare, and I gave him some drops of Dreamless Sleep Potion."

The healer inhaled deeply. "Mr. Black ..."

"Yes, just say it!" Sirius interrupted her rudely. "First, one is condemned to nurse the bastard back to life without being so much as asked and although I'm not interested in the idiot's well-being at all, and when you want to help for once, although the stupid git doesn't deserve it in the least, you get ticked off for it. That's so typical..."

Seething with anger, he turned around and began to mount the stairs. "Do what you want. I'm done with nursing Snape in any case. I'll be busy packing. Harry, we apparate in ten minutes, okay?" Without waiting for a response he disappeared up the stairs and into his room.

It took him even less than ten minutes to pack his duffel bag and return to the little entrance hall, where he waited impatiently for Harry. Tonks and Kingsley were still there, both engaged in a hopeless struggle with some folded Muggle contraption that looked like a chair, only that it had two small, wildly rotating wheels where usually the front legs are supposed to be, and two oversized wheels at the sides.

"Ouch," cursed Tonks, bringing her thump to her mouth, her face contorted in pain. "This blasted thing is bloody dangerous!"

"Pretty much every device is bloody dangerous when in the same room with you, Tonks," lectured Kingsley, although he did not look exactly happy nor more competent at his attempt to shake the tangled front wheels free.

"Why don't we just bring the portkey upstairs and apparate him directly from his bed to Grimmauld Place?" sulked Tonks while scrutinising her thumb for visible bruising without success. She sighed.

"Probably because the house is strongly warded and apparating into it is impossible?" Sirius said irritatedly. What was keeping Harry so long?

Tonks rolled her eyes. "I know that, you dork. It was a rhetorical question."

"And, according to Poppy, we cannot levitate him either. Because of the magical overload. He'll need all the reserves he has for apparating," mumbled Kingsley before giving a triumphant cry when the strange chair finally unfolded with a clatter.

At this moment, Harry walked down the stairs, a suitcase in his hand. "I'm ready, Sirius."

Sirius nodded and turned around, casually raising a hand in the direction of the two Aurors. "See you."

"See you too. Most probably pretty soon," said Shacklebolt. "As soon as Pomfrey gives her okay for apparating. Come on, Tonks, let's drag that monster chair upstairs."

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_Thanks to Slytherin's silver snake and Sadistra for betaing:-)_


	58. Healing attempts

Chapter 57:

_Healing attempts _

During all his childhood, Christmas had never been a particularly nice time for Harry. Not that the Dursleys would not celebrate the holiday; quite the contrary. They used to go to great pains to make their house the most lavishly decorated, and that their Christmas tree would be the tallest and most impressive one in the entire neighbourhood. And, of course, said Christmas tree had to be placed directly in front of the living-room window, no matter whether or not one was still able to move about in the room. In fact, one could not move in said room without having to perform a slalom around the table, the huge tree and the wall unit, a feat that especially made Harry's fat cousin Dudley look like a tightrope walking hippopotamus.

Nevertheless, at his relatives', who regarded any kind of disorder as a monstrous crime, not a single garland had ever been put up without following a well-calculated plan.

In Hogwarts, things had changed for Harry. For the first time in his life he had not experienced the holiday as merely a compulsory exercise in how to impress your neighbours and standing by and having to watch how his fat cousin was swamped with presents (which always ended in a shrieking tantrum because Dudley had not got to the letter what he had wished for, in spite of having written an exact list for his mother just a week before). For the first time, Harry understood why Christmas also was called the holiday of love. The fact that he got presents for the first time was not even important to him. What was important was that he was together with friends.

At the burrow, where he originally was supposed to spend the holidays, things would have been everything but sterile, he knew that.

However, this was nothing compared to what was awaiting him at the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix. When he set foot into his godfather's old family home for the first time two days ago, Harry had stood and stared with his mouth agape. The house would have provided the perfect scenery for a Muggle gothic horror movie. The thick windowpanes in the rooms were stained and dull, and even if they had been as clean as anything the light would not have dared to enter the house, Harry was convinced of that. It was extremely gloomy, something not even the red and silver garlands and the colourful singing spheres that were put up everywhere, softly chanting Christmas Carols, could change. On the contrary; the decorations left the impression of it being as natural to the old house as a camel race on the ground of the ocean.

Every single painting in the house showed morosely looking people from times long past. At least Harry had been spared the acquaintance with the, presumably, worst of all the portraits, the one of Sirius' mother, since the picture in the entrance way was covered by thick curtains. Ron had told him of this particular portrait and how nobody had been able to remove it so far, but his brother Bill had put a very effective dimming charm on it so that Old Mrs. Black could shriek and shout as she wished without disturbing anyone. It was something that annoyed her to no end. What his friend had told him of the old hag was more than enough to thoroughly nip any curiosity about his godfather's mother in the very bud.

Nonetheless, he had learned more about Sirius and his family during the last two days than over the entire previous years. Now that he did not have to take care of Snape, his godfather was literally flourishing. He had even offered his help with decorating the house.

Since the episode with the nightmare, Harry had not seen nor heard anything of Snape. He was staying in one of the guest rooms and only Molly, Remus, and Albus used to enter it to bring him something to eat and see to his needs. Sirius' initial worries about Snape's mental condition, which had seemed to bother him considerably, had obviously evaporated. Only once, right at the beginning when Remus was about to bring Snape some food, had Sirius asked him to watch Snape closely in case Snape was in depression. Seemingly, the werewolf had made the mistake to mention Sirius' concerns to Snape. Because as he emerged, he had splashed half of the porridge over his robes and the facial expression of the usually gentle Lupin had changed into something between indignation and anger. After this incident the topic had been closed for good. Lupin had assured everybody that reacting offended and spouting poison was exactly what to expect of a mentally normal Snape.

The morning before Christmas Eve found a slightly apprehensive Harry and his best friend Ron leafing through a couple of magazines, all filled with pictures of more or less dressed women who all winked frivolously at them and smiled at the boys coquettishly with cherry-red pouts. The twins had slipped them the magazines after breakfast, accompanied by a note with the promise to help them explore the secrets of growing up. Harry could not deny that he was strangely attracted to the females in the pictures, even if he would never have admitted it. Ron seemed to feel likewise, if his deep scarlet ears were an indicator, and both of them covered their nervousness with bad jokes, causing the women in the magazine to either giggle or frown angrily.

When they heard soft steps approaching, they quickly hid the magazines under the mattress, flung themselves onto the bed and tried to look as innocent as possible.

The steps did not stop in front of their room but continued on their way down the corridor without hesitating.

After a quick and wordless exchange of glances, the boys jumped up from the bed, rushed to the door, opened it a little and peered out into the gloomy corridor. They could just catch a glimpse of Mrs. Weasley, Dumbledore, and Lupin leading a blindfolded Poppy Pomfrey by the elbow before they disappeared around a corner.

"I bet they're going to Snape," said Ron with a frown. "Why so many? And on Christmas Eve of all days…"

"Hmm," answered Harry pensively. Ron had a point. True, Pomfrey had been at headquarters before, on the day Snape had been brought here, and she had been wearing the blindfold then, too, because she was not an official member of the Order. But why did more than one Order member not accompany her? There was something going on with Snape; that much was obvious.

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Grey. Nothing but grey as far as the eye could see. The entire world seemed to have lost its colour. With sagging shoulders, Severus was sitting in his wheel chair and gazing down fixedly at the dreary street before the house through the dull windowpane. Where was the snow that was supposed to cover the surroundings at this time of year?

Gone. Like Severus' self-esteem.

A cheerless, unfriendly, wet and cold winter weather had come upon them. Severus shivered involuntarily, although it was comfortably warm in the room. He tried his best to suppress the feeling of helplessness and shame and concentrate on the more and more hotly burning flame of vengeance instead. He would be able to face Malfoy again, and either would he take revenge and reclaim his dignity or he would die fighting. Living on like this, in the knowledge of having failed once again, of having allowed Malfoy to break him, he could not. That he was dead certain of.

This, too, was the only reason for him to take some interest at all in Lupin and Molly's exercises. Several times a day they came and helped him train and strengthen his muscles. Often, it seemed to him more than futile and it took a lot of energy to do it, despite its futility. However, they would only take him with them to the final battle if he were physically fit enough. Thus he had to pull himself together and try his best.

Moreover, and although he was not really interested in getting well again, the daily visits by Albus and those two did distract him from sinking ever deeper into the bottomless grey of his soul and the bleakness of his thoughts.

Severus looked up when the door to his room opened and a handful of people entered, Poppy Pomfrey in the middle. He frowned before remembering that Molly had mentioned the day before yesterday that they would soon try to heal his hands. To his great surprise, his heart began to beat faster. If they were actually able to restore his hands, and if his legs, too, were healed in the next few days, then they would have to declare him fit enough to take part in the fight.

"Hello Severus," Albus greeted him with a radiant smile. "Ready for the great day?"

Severus did not deign to reply to the headmaster's insufferable merriment. Instead, he watched Molly walk over to him and close the greying, once yellow curtains whilst Lupin took the blindfold off the Mediwitch.

"I really do not understand why you still insist on the blindfold, Madame," said the werewolf quietly as he tried to disentangle the piece of fabric from her hair without hurting her. "You've been here so often and helped so much you're almost one of us anyway."

"I'm not one of you," the older woman replied with emphasis, and she brusquely wiped Remus' hands away before she freed herself of the blindfold. "I do support your idea and will help you with my healing skills whenever need be, but I took an oath to never intentionally hurt anybody, and that's exactly what the Order does. You are warriors, and even if it's only the evil Dark Lord and his Death Eaters you are fighting I want to participate in this fight as little as possible. To help you it's not necessary that I know where headquarters is. And the less people know the safer you are."

"But this is stupid, really. What harm would it do if you..."

"Shhh," interrupted Poppy with an abrupt wave of her hand. "I don't intend to discuss ethics with you again, Mr. Lupin. We are here for a different reason today, as you well know. A reason which will require our full attention."

Her gaze wandered towards Snape, and she smiled lightly. "Good to see you up, Professor."

"He was bedridden for more than long enough while in that hut," Molly said as she gripped the handles of the wheel chair and steered Severus towards the middle of the room. She stopped next to a small, wooden table, which she covered with a white drapery.

"And as I see, someone has finally freed you of that gruesome beard," the Mediwitch added casually as she heaved her heavy bag onto the bed, opened it and started rummaging among its contents.

Severus only snorted morosely. Indeed, Molly had only shaved him yesterday. She had not used magic in order to not interfere with today's healing attempt but had shaved him the Muggle way. Not that he had had any say in this, let alone the possibility to resist. He would have had to muster enough energy to put up a fight in the first place anyway. And what in Merlin's name was the big deal with him wearing or not wearing a beard? Well, whatever. When Molly had bent his head backwards and began to shave from neck to chin with a sharp blade, he had been too busy fighting down visions of Voldemort cutting his throat to do much more than sit still like petrified. It did not matter to him at all whether or not she or anyone else in this world liked it better like this.

"Well, let's see then what we can do about your hands." Pomfrey came up to Severus and Molly lifted his right hand. The Mediwitch then began to remove the bandages while explaining the procedure. "The wounds were inflicted by Dark Magic and we will need very strong magic to restore them, if this is possible at all. Mister Lupin has made himself an expert on this and knows the neutralisation procedure best. His task will be to counter the influence of the Dark Magic and neutralise it while I'm going to try to regenerate the skin, muscle, and nerve tissue. Albus will monitor the process, making sure we won't proceed too fast or cause an imbalance in your magical aura. The Dark Magic has etched itself deeply into your hands, and if we aren't extremely cautious, we might make things worse. Molly here is our emergency assistant. If something goes wrong, or if whatever might still be lingering of the Magica Pudidus reacts to the high amount of magic, she will have several potions and Muggle drugs at hand which she can administer promptly."

Soon the hand was freed of the bandages and Severus tried his best not to look at the gaping wound. Instead, he saw Lupin blanch considerably when staring at the thing that once was his hand and that now was laid gently onto the little table with its palm down.

Poppy strode over to her bag and retrieved the Muggle infusion that was all too well known to Severus by now. "We're going to set an IV in case of emergency, Professor Snape," she explained while connecting tubes and needles to the fluid-filled bag. She let some fluid run through, and then hung the bag to a special device on the wheel chair. "Only in case we have to give you Muggle medicine. We might have to act really quick all of a sudden."

With cool professionalism, she pushed Snape's sleeve upwards, tied up his upper arm, and quickly inserted the needle at the end of the infusion tube into a protruding vein in the crook of his arm. After removing the elastic band from his upper arm again, she bent slightly towards him. "It's only a precaution, Severus. With a bit of luck, nothing will go wrong at all, but I like to be prepared for all eventualities.

Severus did not react to her attempt at calming him down. There was nothing to calm. The only thing he truly dreaded was that healing his hands turned out to be impossible and he still survived the attempt.

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TBC

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Translated by Persephone Lupin.

Betaed by Slytherin's silver snake and Sadistra.


	59. Healing

Chapter 58:

_Healing_

With a nod, Poppy turned to the two wizards behind her. Both Dumbledore and Lupin wore such grave expressions that Severus felt as if they had just been invited to assist in his execution.

Perhaps they had been.

Lupin positioned himself next to Pomfrey and drew his wand while Molly strode over to the bed and retrieved a small silvery tray, which the Mediwitch had prepared there earlier.

Albus moved around the wheelchair until he stood directly behind it. He laid both his hands on Severus' shoulders and squeezed them encouragingly whilst urging the younger wizard's upper body against the backrest with gentle force. Not until then did Severus notice how stiffly he had been sitting there, ever since the three wizards had entered the room.

"Relax, Severus," Albus whispered from behind him, as he started to gently massage his tense shoulders. "It might be best if you leaned against me and tried to relax. This isn't going to be very pleasant, I fear."

Severus hesitated for a second, but then he gave in and let himself fall against the warm body of the headmaster, suppressing a soft sigh just in the last moment. When one of the reassuring hands left his shoulder and came up to his forehead, pressing his head lightly against Albus' chest, he closed his eyes and let it happen. The body behind him and the soothing hands on his shoulder and brow radiated a comfortable warmth which seemed to spread throughout his entire body. And for the first time in countless days, it appeared the warmth was reaching his soul, at least a little.

In this very moment, Severus could almost convince himself that the pleasant feeling was genuine. That it was not only his value in the fight against Voldemort that was of importance to Albus.

Then he heard Lupin start murmuring something so faintly that he could not understand the words. The first signs of strong magic began to fill the room like the crackle of electricity.

Something as light as a feather, most probably Poppy's wand, touched his fingers and then the hand started tingling slightly. He felt the muscles in his hand stiffen and stretch. All in all, it was not that bad. Severus kept his eyes closed, trying to keep down the nervousness that had slowly but incessantly crept upon him and concentrated on Albus' reassuring closeness instead.

That even worked for a few minutes, until, suddenly, Pomfrey swore under her breath and Lupin's murmuring acquired a note of urgency as it grew into a torrent of Latin words. The crackling in the air increased to such a point that it made goosebumps appear all over Severus' skin, the tingling in his hand turning into a painful burning sensation.

Severus stifled a moan whilst his hand wanted to cramp up and instinctively try to evade the pain. But Pomfrey seemed to have anticipated this reaction, as her hand was gripping his in a vice-like grip around his fingers and soon pinned it to the table.

Upon feeling the firm resistance, Severus opened his eyes, his gaze instinctively drawn towards the aching hand. The sight that greeted him made his stomach clench and he instantly regretted ever having looked at it. However, he could not avert his eyes any more. He hardly noticed Lupin and Pomfrey standing around the small table, their wands pointed at his hand. His gaze was fixed on the thing lying on the table. The huge hole that was still gaping in the middle of his ruined hand. Bones of his middle hand showed through the hole like thin twigs arranged in a macabre pattern connecting his fingers with the rest of his hand while a first layer of yellowish sinews had developed over the hole. This layer, however, was like the surrounding muscle tissue, covered with a sickly looking, snot-green shimmer which strove to annihilate any healing success by Poppy's magic and ate its way into the newly built sinews like concentrated acid.

At the same time, the burning sensation intensified tenfold and it felt as if the entire hand had caught fire. Severus clenched his teeth tightly to fight against the pain. However, the sensation did not abate until Severus felt it reach about the same level of agony as when Malfoy inflicted the ugly injury. Severus could not hold back any longer and started to scream full force.

"""""""""""""""""""""

Almost automatically, Sirius jumped from the comfortable arm-chair he was sitting in when the nearly inhuman shrieks echoed through the house. But he soon remembered that it was not him anymore who was responsible for taking care of Snape and helping him through his nightmares. No, at this very moment, Albus, Pomfrey, Molly, and Remus were supposed to make the git's hands all right again, weren't they?

Well, these screams did not exactly sound 'all right'. What on earth were they doing with Snape?

Sirius glanced briefly at the easy-chair in front of the fireplace and then at the door. No. This did not concern him anymore. Not in the least. Should they well slaughter Snape...

With a stifled curse, he threw the book he had been reading carelessly onto the armchair and walked out of the room to the direction of Snape's chamber.

Obviously, he was not the only one that had been startled by Snape's shrieks. When he reached the first floor, Sirius saw Harry and Ron coming out of their room with flabbergasted faces, apparently intending to head in the direction of the screams.

"Stay in your room," admonished Sirius while walking up to them. The two teens whirled around.

"Was that Snape?" asked Ron.

Sirius nodded.

"What's wrong with him?" Harry inquired.

"They are trying to heal his hands," Sirius answered.

"That doesn't sound as if it was working particularly well," said Ron meekly.

"It doesn't indeed," answered Sirius, as the three of them were walking towards Snape's room.

Ginny, Hermione, and the Weasley twins had just arrived in front of the door too, with partly worried, partly expectant faces.

"They're healing his hands?" George asked with a grin when he noticed Sirius. Hermione shot the redhead an angry glare.

"You! Stay out of the room!" ordered Sirius as sternly as he could manage, making the grin on George's face disappear.

"Why?"

"Yes, why?" Fred rushed to aid his twin. "We'd really like to see Snape being the one who's maltreated for a change. At school it's usually the other way around."

"This is hardly comparable," Hermione hissed at him.

The twin was just about to retort when, to Sirius' surprise, Ron cut in. "She's right, guys. Snape might be a miserable git but this time, he's really bad off. We should listen to Sirius."

The Animagus stared at the younger Weasley as if he had grown a second head. Harry did likewise. It was hard to believe that Ronald Weasley of all people was showing concern for Snape.

Perhaps the last weeks and the things he had heard and seen had somewhat sensitised him after all, thought Sirius, before he looked over at the other four, noticing the satisfied smile on Hermione's face as she regarded Ron.

Well, then again, maybe Ron just wanted to impress her, the Animagus added inwardly.

Anyhow, the important thing was that they listened to him. He strode over to the door, but before opening it, Sirius once again turned to the teenagers. "You may listen at the door, but make sure Snape doesn't notice." He hesitated. "Neither Molly nor Poppy. Or you'll be in serious trouble. They'll wring your necks."

Then he opened the door and entered the room.

Immediately, a bitter taste rose to his mouth and the hair in his neck stood on end as if something dark and dangerous was waiting for him, ready to lunge.

There, in the middle of the room, was Snape in his wheelchair. He was clenching his jaws so hard that Sirius was afraid he would soon maim his own teeth if he continued like this. The Potions master's eyes were clenched tight as well and his nostrils were dilated with his ragged, heavy breathing. Dumbledore was standing at his side, slightly behind him, one hand clamped around Snape's upper arm, the other around his wrist. Even from his faraway position, Sirius could discern the amount of force the old wizard had to apply to keep the heavily trembling arm still, while Remus and Poppy, their wands with their faintly white and bluish glowing tips pointing at the hand on the table, were standing in front of the wheelchair, their faces covered in sweat. Poppy seemed to be deeply concentrated whereas Remus was murmuring incessantly under his breath.

Molly was standing somewhat helplessly next to them, a Muggle syringe in her raised hands. Her eyes travelled between Snape and the Mediwitch, as if she was waiting nervously for the Mediwitch's orders.

"We're almost there, Albus. Keep him still for just one more minute," Poppy gritted through clenched teeth.

"Madame," said Molly with a frown, and her voice had acquired an almost pleading note. "He can't take much more of this. His pulse is literally racing. The pain..."

"Not yet! If he loses consciousness now, Albus will lose his connection to him," the Mediwitch responded without turning her attention away from the hand. "Come on now, damn...," she cursed, while Remus never broke off his litany of words.

"Poppy," Molly pleaded again. But before she could continue, Remus' voice suddenly increased in volume and the stifling atmosphere in the room became even more oppressing. Then the werewolf's wand, together with Poppy's, descended onto the hand completely, and a dark green smoke rose from the injured limb with a hissing noise and blew away into a dark corner where it was absorbed by the ancient walls. Dark magic had been at home in these walls for so long that they sucked it in as greedily.

Snape emitted a low, panting cry and crumpled up in his chair. Only Albus' gripping him hastily around the chest kept him from sliding to the ground.

Remus' murmuring had ceased and he stepped back a little, utterly drained, while Albus drew Severus' body against his, brushing a strand of sweaty hair from his face and stroked his brow soothingly. Sirius walked over to Remus and put an arm on his shoulder, something the werewolf accepted with a faint smile. Poppy, although undeniably very exhausted as well, kneeled down in front of the half unconscious wizard, reaching for his neck and feeling his pulse with two fingers while slowly moving her wand over his body.

"It's fine, everything is going to be fine, Severus. It's over now," she said soothingly. The younger wizard, however, did not answer and still had his eyes clenched in agony.

"Poppy?" Molly held the syringe meaningfully close to the entry of the IV and when the Mediwitch nodded to her, she emptied its contents into the tube. After about one minute, the medicine did its work and Snape's facial expression relaxed as he fell asleep.

"What he needs now more than anything is rest to regain his strength," said Pomfrey with a tired smile.

"How is his hand?" asked Dumbledore, who was still holding the Potions master's limp body tightly.

Poppy rose, and only then did she notice Sirius. She frowned indignantly but Sirius only shrugged.

"He was screaming so loud one could certainly hear him as far as Hogsmeade," he said as an excuse.

Poppy did not seem to consider his being there worth wasting more of her precious energy and only motioned in the direction of the bed. "Please fold back the blanket then, Mister Black."

Shrugging once again, Sirius did as he was told and tried to catch a glimpse of Snape's hand from behind Poppy's body as he walked over to the bedstead.

"His hand isn't healed," said Albus, who regarded the Mediwitch with a serious expression. Sirius approached them. The gaping hole was not there any longer but Snape's palm was one large scar tissue under which the outlines of the bones were visible.

Pomfrey sighed deeply, but before she started to answer, she disconnected the Muggle IV from the needle inserted into Snape's arm, lifted the unconscious wizard from his chair with the help of her wand and levitated him onto the bed where Remus was already waiting to tuck him in.

"I'm sorry, but that's all we could do," she admitted sadly.

"The dark magic had eaten its way deeply into the tissue and, considering the sheer force of Voldemort's curse, it was rather fortunate that we were at least able to remove the high concentration around his hand," explained Remus. "And he did not have a relapse from the magical overload. We can still continue with magic."

"But then I could as well have given him a potion instead of this Muggle stuff," Molly cut in. Poppy nodded.

"Yes, but the syringe was ready at hand already. Plus Severus did not have to swallow the fluid that way. And the Muggle drug works just fine, I can assure you."

"Will healing the other hand be as bad?" asked Molly, shuddering inwardly.

Poppy nodded again. "I fear so. Therefore, we will wait a few days so Severus will have time to recover from today's ordeal." She glanced over to Remus with a faint smile. "And us, too."

Then, the Mediwitch turned around to address Albus, who was still staring at Severus' scarred hand, regret in her voice. "I believe he'll be able to use it again. Given enough time and physiotherapy, that is." She met Dumbledore's gaze. "However, I'm afraid the scars will remain."

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Thanks to the wonderful Betas Slytherin's silver snake and Sadistra and to Persephone Lupin for the translation.


	60. The attack

Chapter 59:

_The Attack_

Three months later, the call came at last.

During the long time of waiting and worrying, the members of the Order had almost lost hope that their plan would work at all. Although they had received plenty of important information via the bugs in the Death Eater houses and had been able to save several lives, they had never heard of the Dark Lord himself visiting one of these places. Ever since Severus' treason Voldemort had become increasingly paranoid. The negative side to his paranoia was, that he never used the same place for his Death Eater meetings twice. The only positive thing, that he had executed three of his own Death Eaters because he suspected they were the ones giving away this information.

Black was sitting in the kitchen, idly (and not a little annoyed) watching Remus do the usual exercises with Snape. Since a little over a month, the Slytherin had been up and about again and strove with an almost manic energy to recover his old agility and strength. It had worked pretty well for his legs. After Poppy had magically healed the burns and rebuilt the muscle tissue, Snape was once again prowling through the house with a fluidity of movement close to his usual one, more than ever reminding everybody of an overgrown vulture.

His hands were an entirely different story. Although the ugly scars were invisible since Snape always wore black leather riding-gloves, he still had hardly any strength in his fingers. So far, he was merely able to hold a mug with both his hands, but it did not work with smaller objects. Without an enormous amount of concentration and effort, or without help, he hardly managed to close his mostly numb fingers.

Nevertheless, he insisted on practicing holding his wand until his arms were shaking with exhaustion. And no matter who tried to reason with him, he stubbornly refused to take things more slowly. Albus had told them that Snape was dying to take his revenge, and had pointed out that the Slytherin was dead set on participating in the attack against Voldemort. Dumbledore seemed quite satisfied with this, although the idea alone was sheer idiocy in Snape's current condition. However, in Albus eyes, it was exactly how a Slytherin, and most of all Snape, was supposed act.

All the same, and although Sirius had come into closer contact with the Slytherin's acts of revenge himself, he was not convinced. Snape seemed changed. The arrogant and biting sarcasm, which used to roll off Snape's tongue so easily, was barely there anymore, and the vehemence with which he was pursuing his revenge was not normal, either. Snape had always wanted revenge, even as a schoolboy, but he used to be very patient in acting it out, was able to lie in wait like a snake and put away his revenge like you put away some old shirt in a drawer only to get it out again in the right moment.

What really annoyed Sirius, however, was that he and Remus had agreed on spending a quiet weekend in his friend's hut for once. With the emphasis on _quiet_, which meant most of all 'without Snape'. But the slimy Slytherin seemed to have other plans and refused to let Remus go, snarling at him each and every time he wanted to terminate the training for the day.

And because Remus was such a good-natured person, and because Sirius himself had put this idea about the depression into his head, he could not bring himself to turn down Snape's vehement wish to continue. Okay. Sirius was still convinced that Snape was stuck in a depression, but could the git not be depressive when it did not ruin all the happiness in Sirius' life?

Well, he had no choice but watch Snape's awkward attempts at clasping Lupin's hand and pressing down on it with his fingers.

And then, his boredom and the silence in the room were wiped out at once, when suddenly something within the pockets of his trousers began to emit an unpleasant heat. Reaching inside, he produced a somewhat rumpled phoenix feather. The feather, which usually was of a deep orange colour, seemed to glow softly from the inside. Sirius looked at his friend, who was completely ignoring Snape now and instead was staring intently at the likewise glowing feather he had produced from the breast pocket of his robes.

"The signal," Remus whispered as a highly agitated Alastor Moody hobbled into the kitchen.

"It's finally about to start!" the old Auror roared. "We have localised Voldemort. Tonks just activated the signal and is now gathering the Aurors. As soon as they are here, Albus will give us some last-minute instructions, and then we'll thoroughly kick old Voldie's ass!"

Sirius jumped from his chair excitedly. "Where is he?"

"Malfoy Manor," Moody growled. "And apparently, there are no Death Eaters present except for old Malfoy himself. We heard them both talking to each other through the bug."

"Ha, now we've got him," Sirius exclaimed. "Let's see how powerful he is without his minions at his side. Albus is going to finish him off thus" he snipped his fingers," quickly." Then, he realised what else this news meant. He glanced over towards Snape who was sitting like in shock and seemed to need some minutes to cope with the unexpected news. Yet, he did cope with it, and as if in slow motion, his face turned into a hateful, stony mask, his eyes beginning to glitter evilly.

"Oh no, you don't ..." Sirius began. Taking Snape with them in this condition would only hinder them. Yet, he could not even finish his sentence as the door opened once more and three redheaded men and one woman stormed into the room, followed by the shabby figure of Mundungus Fletcher.

"Where is he?" Bill Weasley inquired the instant he entered the room.

Moody, not willing to repeat himself, turned him down. "I'll tell you when everybody has arrived. I've no inclination to explain the same thing over again every two minutes."

It did not take more than ten minutes until the rest of the Order found its way into the (in the meantime pretty crowded) kitchen at headquarters. Only Dumbledore was still missing.

"What's he waiting for?" asked Molly impatiently.

"Surely, he has to get Harry first," answered Moody with a gnashing of teeth.

Molly's face darkened and her eyes flashed angrily. "He truly intends to take a mere boy to battle? How can he?"

"You know about the prophecy," her husband tried to soothe her. "Without Harry, we'll fail."

"I know," she spat angrily, making it obvious that this knowledge did not help at all, she still hated the fact. "At least, he won't drag Ron into this mess too, if he knows what's good for him."

Nobody dared contradict her. Most of them had been present to hear her tirade threatening Dumbledore with the worst tortures of the seven hells if he so much as had the idea to endanger a single one of the 'children' not particularly mentioned in the prophecy. That also was the reason why the twins had only been poorly informed about what was going on. For Molly it was bad enough to know her 'grown-up' sons in danger.

She appeared to be slightly calmer when Dumbledore arrived with a somewhat confused-looking Harry, his hand on the boy's shoulder.

Upon seeing the crowd in the room, Harry stopped short and glanced at Dumbledore. "I don't fully understand, headmaster."

"We finally received the signal, Harry," explained Molly in a soft, compassionate voice which was in startling contrast to her outburst just a minute ago.

Harry's mouth gaped. "You are going to attack Vol..."

"We are going to send him where he belongs: straight to hell," growled Sirius.

Harry's eyes slowly travelled over all those present and then back to Dumbledore. He frowned thoughtfully. "I don't want to complain, Sir. But if this is true, why am I here? Do you think there will be problems and you want to give me the chance to speak with Sirius before the attack. Just in case... But why is Ron not here then? His family is fighting, too."

For one long minute, it was dead silent in the room, but this time Molly was given no time to protest.

"YOU HAVEN'T TOLD HIM?" Sirius shouted. This couldn't be true. The old man had not told Harry about the prophecy! Not a single word.

"Told me what ...?" asked Harry, even more confused than before.

"It was not imperative for him to know in advance," Dumbledore said sharply into Sirius' direction before looking Harry in the eye. "There is a prophecy, you know, and it says that you have to be present in the final battle."

Sirius could see seething anger rise in Harry, anger about once again having been withheld vital information concerning his life, and he could well understand this reaction.

"A real prophecy will always fulfil itself, whether or not the parties concerned know about it," Snape's hoarse voice could be heard from the kitchen table. "However, if we do keep on chatting away much longer, then HE might already be gone when we arrive at Malfoy's."

Sirius glared daggers at the insensitive Slytherin, whereas Snape held his head slightly lowered, his eyes flashing determinedly at everybody from under his short hair.

Dumbledore sighed. "Sadly enough, Severus is right. Harry, we don't have the time to go into detail, and it is sufficient for you to know that you have to come with us. But be careful, and stay close to Sirius and Remus and under their protection at all cost, no matter what's going to happen."

As if he had to specify this, Sirius thought. He would not let the boy out of his sight anyway.

"But shouldn't he know that ..." Charlie started again, but Dumbledore silenced him with one stern gaze.

"At the moment, he doesn't need to know more than he already does."

And suddenly, Sirius understood. Dumbledore wanted to avoid having to tell Harry what was expected of him. That, if everything went according to plan, he would have taken somebody's life before the day was over. Although, you could hardly call Voldemort alive. Kill or die. It was bad enough when you were confronted with this deadly dilemma during a battle. However, it was a decision that had to be made, and making it was easier in the actual situation. Letting Harry brood over it would be even more brutal than keeping him ignorant. They could only hope that they would not have to pick up the shards of Harry's psyche afterwards.

Harry, on the other hand, did not seem to particularly like this, and he was about to protest, but Dumbledore turned around demonstratively and looked at Snape.

"Severus, you know Malfoy best. We found out all about the usual wards around the mansion long ago and are able to avoid them. Is it probable that he has strengthened the wards while Riddle is present?"

Snape shook his head. "I don't think that likely. If it was a planned visit, there would certainly be more Death Eaters around. And Malfoy and the dar... Voldemort are too arrogant to even think of the possibility of being attacked during a spontaneous visit. At least they used to be."

Dumbledore nodded. "Good. Then Bill will break the wards at the same moment as I will try to cast an anti-apparition spell on the mansion. You'll have to act quickly, before Voldemort gets the idea to use the Floo to escape to the safety of another Death Eater's house." He sighed deeply. "I know, my friends, this plan has many 'ifs' and 'buts', but at least, we have the element of surprise on our side, and this might be the only chance to attack without risking a terrible bloodshed."

"There are many secret passages into the mansion. I know one or two of them. If we make it to the stables unobserved, I may be able to lead a small vanguard to the main building unnoticed," said Snape.

Dumbledore nodded again while gazing intently at the Slytherin from over the rims of his glasses. "This would be splendid. You could give us detailed directions where to find this secret passage through a mirror."

Snape jumped from his chair at the implication of Dumbledore's words. " A mirror? What are you getting at? Of course, I'm coming with you!"

"Of course, you won't!" Sirius retorted with annoyance in his voice.

"You'll bloody see that I will, mutt," snarled Snape, his eyes flashing furiously.

"Sirius, Severus. We don't have the time for your childish quarrelling," Dumbledore said sharply.

"Albus, he cannot even hold his wand. He'll only hinder us," Remus cautioned. "It'll be enough trouble already to look out for Harry. Sirius is right. You know he is."

"Damn werewolf!" Snape shouted. "I won't let you take my revenge from me!"

Although Sirius had been glad at first to see his friend take his side, he now felt somewhat guilty at hearing the almost desperate undertone in Snape's voice. Snape wanted, no, he needed this revenge. Sirius was not sure whether or not the others had realised this, he rather doubted it. Only Dumbledore seemed to be an exception. For some moments, he surveyed the Slytherin, who was quaking with badly suppressed rage, weighing his decision.

"Severus ..." Albus began.

"Perhaps we could tie his wand to his hand?" Sirius interrupted the headmaster.

"Severus' magic hasn't by far reached its usual standard yet," lectured Albus carefully. "He could not even defend himself properly."

"Will you stop talking about me as if I wasn't in this room at all?" hissed Snape. "I will come with you, and I will confront Malfoy. It doesn't matter to me whether I get killed in the process. You don't need to worry yourselves about my safety. It doesn't concern you in the least. It's my life, and I have every right to risk it whenever and wherever I choose." He looked Albus straight in the eye. "Or do you deny this right to me now, after having asked the very same thing of me for years?"

Dumbledore stiffened visibly. "Severus. You are going too far. I never forced you. It has always been your decision."

Snape relaxed slightly. "Indeed, precisely as it is now. Only that this time I'm doing it for my sake and not for the sake of others ..."

The two of them glared at each other for some more seconds before Albus finally nodded. "Very well then. Kingsley, help him secure his wand around his wrist and keep an eye on Severus when we are there." He gazed sternly at the Slytherin, challenging the younger wizard to disagree.

Snape did not.

ooooooooooooooooooo

Sneak-preview Chapter 60: Malfoy Manor: Will the Order-vanguard led by Snape arrive at the Manor unnoticed? Will they find Voldemort and Malfoy alone? Quarrels and battles ensue, ending in a deep fall. But whose?

_(Find out next week, same day, same time on Killers and Traitors)_My Beta Sadistra put that one in and I think it was so cute, I had to leave it in:-D

First of all, let me tell you all how sorry I am to not have updated for so long. I've been finishing a Snape-fiction-challenge about a 'Blinddate'. Not that easy, since I don't consider Snapey dear as the romantic sort in any way:-P But I managed.

Persephone Lupin will not have time to translate another chapter until Easter, I'm afraid, but I will try to do some translating myself, so you don't have to wait that long. It will be easier for her, to only look it through, than to write it all herself.

Translated by Persephone Lupin


	61. Malfoy manor

Chapter 60

_Malfoy Manor:_

Severus was well aware of the doubting eyes that were boring into his back. He also knew as well as the others, if he said so himself, that his 'lumos' hardly reached half the intensity of even that whelp Potter's. And he knew with certainty what the others suspected; namely his being far from his usual form. The heaviness of his arms and the weight that seemed to have settled in his guts were all too clear an indicator of his physical fitness, or lack thereof. Molly had given him a few drops of a strengthening potion that would help him get through the day. However, despite the fact that there seemed to be almost no residues left of Voldemort's curse, the use of magic took far more strength from him than would have been the case, were he completely healthy.

However, all of this didn't really concern him. The fire of vengeance was burning brightly within his chest and the adrenaline in his blood would let him finish his mission today. Nobody would deny him his vengeance.

At the latest of their arrivals at the small forest in front of Malfoy Manor, he had given up trying to close his fingers around his wand; it took decidedly too much energy and attention. Shacklebolt had tied his wand to the palm of his hand with a small leather cord just before they had set off on their mission, making sure it wouldn't fall off. That he had less contact with it this way and therefore could not channel his magic that well didn't really matter to him either. He wasn't planning on offing Malfoy with a simple, painless 'Avada Kedavra'. No, the sadistic bastard would taste a bit of his own medicine.

Before leaving the house at Grimmaults place, Severus had made sure to hide one of the smaller cutting knifes from the kitchens up his sleeve. Malfoy would not be granted the mercy of a bloodless demise.

They walked along the narrow tunnel in silence with only the muted noise of their steps audible on the blunt alabaster floor. At least they didn't have to crawl through a messy dirt hole, something that didn't really surprise Snape. Black, however, had loudly commented about it. This hidden corridor was part of Malfoy Manor after all, a mansion that corresponded perfectly to Malfoy himself. It was a place where every bush was carefully trimmed and not one blade of grass was a millimetre out of place.

It was perfect, in a vain and arrogant way. Dirt or disorder didn't exist here; not even in a hidden passage, which was hardly ever used without a good reason. None of the Malfoys would stoop so low as to use this simple and plain passage. However, this did not mean that it wasn't regularly cleaned by the house elves' magic just in case their master might one day need it, however unlikely that may be. Snape wouldn't be overly surprised if Lucius stayed behind in an eventual escape just to punish the responsible house elf for his sloppiness if he found the tunnel not cleaned to his satisfaction.

"I still don't see why we need him here," Black grumbled behind him. "There are no turn-offs whatsoever where we could get lost. Since when does one need a guide in a perfectly straight tunnel?"

"Apart from the fact that you wouldn't have found the tunnel without me in the first place," hissed Snape at Black.

"We would have found it on our own if you had simply told us where to look for it. But no, you had to come with us at all costs and play the hero, Snape. How overly Gryffindor of you..."

"You have no bloody idea..."

"Bloody hell, be quiet you two!" Shacklebolt interrupted. "Or do you want them to hear us well in advance?"

"Sirius, will you quit attacking Severus," Remus said with a weary sigh in his voice. "He has as much a right to come along as you do. Probably even more so."

"All he will manage is getting himself killed and probably take one of us with him in the process. All just for some silly desire to seek revenge. Wake up, Snape. You did survive and you will be alright again. The world doesn't revolve around you. Justice will be served one way or the other. If you desire this so much, you can always testify at court and make sure they get the Dementor's kiss. There is no reason to put yourself in danger just to show off."

"Quiet, I said!" Shacklebolt hissed once more.

Sirius fell silent but continued to throw angry glares in Snape's direction. For a split second, Snape thought he saw something else in his eyes. Something that looked almost like uncertainty and concern. But that was impossible so he pushed the thought aside. Most probably, the mutt was only worried about him putting his Godson in danger. And indeed, the well being of the brat would not have bothered him at all if he hadn't known about the prophecy.

Still, the words about heroism and his desire to show off had hit with a vehemence of a punch in the guts. To hell with Black! He was no hero; during the torture sessions they had made sure he was painfully aware of that. He was cursed to stay second best for all his life. It was not his intention to save or defend anyone in some foolish, heroic gesture, thank you very much. He'd rather take Malfoy by surprise and finish him off. He was the stronger wizard of the two and knew more curses. This time, he had his wand to disarm and immobilize the Death Eater. After that he would take his time to take the other man apart, piece by painful piece, starting with his fingers and eyes and ending with his heart, which he would shove, still beating, down the other man's throat. Nobody would ever consider him a 'hero' after that. Maybe he would be sentenced to Azkaban, in hindsight of his past and the brutality he was still capable of, but that, too, didn't bother him much. The flame of vengeance in his heart, the only thing still warming his cold soul, would be nourished, and that was all that mattered.

"Remember. Albus' 'Ignore-me-spell' will fool any house elf but not a wizard or even You-know-who," Shacklebolt reminded them once they reached a white wooden wall, which cut off the tunnel in a dead end. "We have a time window of..." He glanced at his watch, "...twelve minutes until they realize that somebody has messed with their wards. After that, Bill will break the rest of the wards and Albus will put his own blocking spell over the estate. Nobody will be able to apparate away after that. Try to stay unnoticed until then.

"Snape? You better take the lead since you know your way around best. We should locate You-know-who before the others storm the house."

Snape made a small, growling sound and pushed past the others. He leaned against the wooden wall, pushed it half way open with his shoulder and stepped onto the corridor behind it. Before the young woman on the painting guarding the entrance could recover from her surprise he put a spell on her, transforming her into an ordinary, unmoving muggle painting. The other paintings wouldn't register anything amiss for another twelve minutes, even if they were walking around right before their very painted noses. But this one had to be taken out because otherwise she would at least realize that the door had been opened.

Without a second glance at the portrait of the young maid, whose mouth was frozen in a surprised "oh", and without confirming that the others were following him, he started to stalk down the corridor with purposeful strides. He knew about only one fireplace in the house that was connected to the floo network, even if that was no guaranty that there were no others. He hadn't been here that often. The fireplace he was familiar with was situated in the library. He knew that Malfoy welcomed his guests in that room, and if they didn't find him or Voldemort there or somewhere on the way they could still sabotage the floo access. At least this would make sure Malfoy wouldn't be able to escape.

He knew the others wouldn't approve of him marching down the corridors without any caution or worry. They had even told him a couple of times to slow down, especially around the corners, but he had ignored them and stalked through the building as if he owned it. The house elves would not notice them and, as far as they knew, nobody except for Malfoy and Voldemort were here. And if, despite that information, they met someone else, then that foolish Auror and the Gryffindors would be able to handle him or her. If they happened to run across Malfoy or Voldemort, however, then he, Potter and the others would have found what they had come for and they would deal with them once and for all. Besides, the rest of the Order was keeping track of their progress by a magical mirror. They'd be here in a heartbeat, if needed. But Severus wouldn't permit anyone to take on Malfoy. The blond Death Eater was his. And so he was actively hoping that he would run across the other man.

Much to his dismay, although rather luckily for the others, they reached the library unperturbed.

No Voldemort, no Malfoy and not even a bloody house elf was to be seen.

But once they were standing in the middle of the large, voluminous library and Lupin was preparing to sabotage the gigantic fireplace, in which three adult men could easily stand upright, their luck was about to take a sudden turn.

"Remus will stay here and cast the delay-spell when time is up," said Kingsley. "The spell is too powerful to not be noticed if it is cast inside the house. We others continue on the search for You-know-who."

That's how far he got. All of a sudden, big, green flames erupted with a 'ush' inside the cold fireplace.

Before anybody could react, two hooded figures with white masks stepped out of it.

For a split second, both parties stared at one another in utter surprise, but then, all hell broke loose.

Somebody yelled and somebody else swore loudly, before the first curses started to fly. Severus had just narrowly defended himself against an "Incendio," as Black, dragging Potter with him by his sleeve, approached, pushing both of them behind the shelter of a high shelve.

"You two take cover here and don't get in our way. Understand? This here isn't your fight, and there is no reason at all to get yourselves in danger just yet."

Sirius whirled around when Lupin's cry of pain filled the room. The Werewolf was holding his wand in his left hand, his right dangling uselessly at his side. The hand holding the wand was pressed against a bloody wound on his right shoulder and in front of him, his adversary was regaining his footing and lifting his own wand for a new attack. The second Death Eater, who was duelling with Shacklebolt, didn't seem to notice anything around him and his opponent; much like the Auror himself.

Sirius stormed off and hit the Death Eater, who was just about to curse Lupin again, with a well-placed 'Stupor' in his left side. Potter looked as if he wanted to leap forward, too, in a foolish attempt to help them, but Severus instinctively put one arm around his waist and held him back. Even if he had rather died than admit it out loud, Black was right. This was not their fight and the others would get along just fine without them.

Severus had barely finished that thought and observed with disgust how Lupin sent a thumbs up and a smile towards Black, when, once more, the fireplace erupted in green flames. Two more Death Eaters stepped out of the fire, followed shortly by two others, who, by the look of their bulk, could only be Crabbe and Goyle.

Snape cursed under his breath. Apparently, Malfoy and Voldemort had invited some Death Eaters after all. If many more were coming, Black and the others would soon be overrun by them. Where the hell was the rest of the order, anyway? They should be all too aware of what was happening.

As if his thoughts were the signal, suddenly the high windows lining one wall of the library exploded in a myriad of glittering shards and several people on brooms zoomed into the room with wands at the ready, hexes on their lips.

Snape leaned back against the wall beside the bookshelf with a sigh of relief. He would have hated having to get involved in that fight to help the others; he wanted Malfoy, nothing else. But as he put his full weight against the wall behind him it suddenly gave way. Snape started to plunge through a rapidly opening, secret entrance, involuntarily pulling along Potter, whom he was still holding around the waist, with him. Then they tumbled down a steep stone stair. As he hit the stone floor hard, Snape felt a sharp pain in the back of his head before the world around him exploded into nothingness.

Ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Thanks to Persephone Lupin to take the time helping with the translation, even though she has so much t o do, besides her own life and family:-)

Also a big thank you to my wonderful Betas Slytherin's silver snake and Sadistra.

And last, but definitely not least; Thank you all who reviewed. You make my day.


	62. In the eye of the storm

Chapter 61 

_In the eye of the storm _

Harry was, so far, the luckier of the two as he only bumped his left shin on the stone floor, surviving the rest of the fall unscathed. Last but not least because he had the former professor as an involuntary cushion under his body.

When the fall came to an end, leaving them in a heap at the bottom of a short, yet steep flight of stairs, Harry carefully rolled off the potions master, intent on disentangling his limbs as carefully as possible from Snape's, so he wouldn't have to touch him more than necessary. Snape was not a touch-me-person in the best of times; in this situation, it would make him livid as hell.

"Professor?" he whispered gently, while he struggled back up on his knees, pushing his slightly askew glasses back onto the bridge of his nose. His shin sent a spike of red-hot pain up his leg. He sucked in his breath in a hiss and started to gently finger the aching bone. Thankfully, nothing appeared to be broken, only bruised, but that didn't mean that it didn't hurt like hell at the moment. Still, the pain would ebb away fast. He had learned that only too well with his cousin's constant harassment. He shifted his attention from his leg to Snape. The man was barely conscious, but was already beginning to stir and moan softly.

„Professor? Are you all right?" asked Harry, worried. _Please, don't let him be hurt again_, he pleaded inwardly. The man had been punished and was suffering more than enough as it was. Not long ago, Harry would probably have laughed his butt off if anyone had told him that he'd ever worry about Snape, but today this was exactly what he did, and it didn't seem so absurd anymore to care about his former teacher's well-being. Allowing those feelings did help to soothe his conscience a bit, after all.

The Potions Master groaned again as he lifted the hand not carrying his wand (which had survived the fall still attached to his other hand) and carefully rubbed the back of his head.

„Professor?" Harry asked again, but then a noise from the twilight of the dark corridor behind them caught his attention.

Something was moving and he heard a hissing sound. Over there, at the far end just before the corridor took a turn, he could make out two dark silhouettes. He narrowed his eyes, but instantly reopened them again in wide shock, as he heard a terrible voice speaking: "Welcome to in our realm, Harry Potter. Have you come to vanquish me? Well then, follow me, so we can settle it once and for all, who of us is the more powerful wizard."

„Voldemort," Harry breathed.

„What did he say?" asked a hoarse voice from beside him. He looked at Snape, who was struggling into a sitting position, and realized that Voldemort must have spoken Parseltongue. He hadn't paid attention to that before.

„He has challenged me," Harry whispered. „Wants to settle the ‚affair' once and for all."

A second figure joined the first now, but that person's features, too, stayed hidden in the dark. He laughed softly before both of them disappeared behind the bend.

„That was Malfoy!" hissed Snape. „After them, Potter, or they will escape."

„Professor, are you all right? Perhaps we should wait for the others..."

Snape dismissed his concern with a harsh gesture of his hand. „No time. I'm fine. I will be right behind you. Now get moving."

Harry didn't hesitate much longer. Snape was right. By the time he had notified the rest of the Order and the Aurors, Voldemort and Malfoy would be long gone. With a last glance at the empty passage and at Snape, who was still busy scrambling to his feet, he ran after Malfoy and Voldemort. He could not see them but he heard their fading steps echo behind the turn of the corridor. In the bend, he paused for an instant when he heard hasty steps approaching him from behind. He turned around and looked at a very angry and panting Snape who was trying to keep up with him on his chase after the two dark wizards.

„Professor, are you really all right?" Harry asked once more.

„Look where you're going, Potter!" Snape barked angrily.

Harry surveyed his former potions teacher with a last doubting glance before he turned around and spurted off again. If matters had not been so serious and – at least indirectly – his fault, seeing Snape like this would almost have been comical. His purposeful eyes, which seemed to glow from his inner hate and anger, didn't really go with the image of a Snape with ruffled, short hair, cord-attached wand and the crumpled cloak – a result of his fall. And still, his expression was closer to the ‚old' Snape than Harry had seen in a long time. And as for barking out orders, he could apparently do just as well as before ...

Harry smirked to himself, less from amusement, than from relief. Their old Snape seemed to come back little by little after all. The grin died upon his lips, however, as his forward movement came to an abrupt halt at a massive looking wall, which was cutting off the corridor.

„Potter, run through it. It isn't real!" Snape panted, while he slowly caught up to him.

Normally, Snape's words of advice, no matter the context, would not be something Harry would have cared to trust, but after what had happened during the last few months he didn't dare to hesitate. Strangely enough he didn't want Snape to get even angrier at him than he already was. Harry blamed it on his guilt. He still couldn't bring himself to feel any more sympathy for the potions master than he had done in his fourth year. Only he had partly lost the right to openly display this antipathy. Especially if – even though he himself couldn't really believe it – Sirius was right about Snape's psyche. So he just nodded and ran towards the wall, hoping that the older wizard's assessment of the situation was correct . Just before he was about to collide with the - very solid- looking - wall, he closed his eyes and couldn't stop balking slightly, however, he didn't crash into the smooth surface his eyes told him must be there, but only stumbled through empty air.

No matter how often he had already crossed the false wall at Kings Cross, he would never get used to running headfirst into a solid wall of bricks only to feel nothing. Even if that wasn't totally correct here. He did feel something this time. It was merely a split second in which he felt a squeezing sensation take root in his belly, but still, it made his insides churn and the hair on the back of his neck rise. All in all, it was the same feeling he had once experienced when his cousin had forced him to watch a particularly ghastly horror movie. In the scene with the eerie music as the unsuspecting victim stepped into the darkened apartment, not knowing that the murderer was already waiting there, knife at the ready. A feeling of absolute knowledge that something terrible was about to happen.

However, the sensation disappeared just as fast as it had come, and, with a mental shudder, Harry broke through the false wall.

The room, into which he now stumbled, was a richly decorated office with baroque and terribly expensive-looking furniture, high windows on one side and a marble floor, polished as smooth as glass. At the same time, it was at least the size of the entire Gryffindor common room. However, Harry only fleetingly took notice of it and hardly registered Snape coming to stand beside him. He was mostly concentrated on Malfoy senior and Voldemort, who stood side by side in front of a huge mahogany desk, wands raised.

Harry didn't hesitate for more than a second, before he lifted his own wand. _„Expelliarmus!"_ he screamed, wondering at the same time why none of his enemies made any move to defend themselves. They only sneered at him with an expression of sick satisfaction on their faces.

He got the answer to this puzzle straight away, as he realised with dread that his curse didn't show any effect at all, except for a short, blue flaring-up of a light bubble that engulfed both dark wizards entirely, and a noise as if someone was stepping on a heap of shards.

_„Stupefy!"_ Harry tried again, and once more, his only reward was the blue gleaming and the same, sickening noise.

Voldemort and Lucius were still holding their wands at the ready but strangely enough they didn't point them at either Harry or Snape, and Malfoy's sneer widened into an evil smirk.

„What the hell is this?" Harry exclaimed, instinctively turning around to the person who had come to pursue the dark wizards with him. Surely Snape could tell him what this shield of sorts was. But then, his breath caught in his throat as he gazed at the potions master behind him. Snape stood there, rigid like a log, both of his arms pressed to his sides, his eyes absurdly wide, his yaw slack. His gloved fingers were uncurled, and his wand would certainly have fallen to the ground, were it not tied to his hand. But what really shocked Harry to the core was the uncovered horror in Snape's eyes, while he stared at the two dark wizards like he was hypnotized. The man didn't move one millimetre, and Harry wasn't even certain he breathed at all.

„Nice help you brought, Harry!" Voldemort hissed in Parseltongue, and Harry turned away from the frightening sight of Snape, back to Voldemort, whose voice sounded as if he was talking through a wall of glass.

„Too much a coward to face me without a shield, Voldemort?" Harry answered in English. He had no intention of playing along with Voldemort's games.

„Oh, don't be impatient my dear boy. My Death Eaters will delay your Muggle-loving friends long enough. We have all time in the world. As long as I hold this magical shield, you will not be able to reach me, be it physically or magically. But alas, the same applies to me, unfortunately."

„And why then this charade, if we both can't attack? Sooner or later, the Aurors will find this room!" Harry said angrily.

Voldemort only laughed „Hello Severus," he said instead, addressing the potions master. „You have recovered well, I see."

Harry turned back around to Snape, who hadn't moved a muscle yet. Harry wondered again what the hell was wrong with Snape. And then he saw. Snape's whole body trembled. The fingers of his hand shook so hard it was clearly visible, even through the black leather gloves, and his eyes still were wide open but seemed unable to really perceive anything apart from some inner terror.

„Professor Snape?" Harry asked carefully. He'd never thought to ever see the feared potions master like this. Like a rabbit in front of a snake. Petrified by the knowledge of his own impending death.

„Don't waste your breath, Harry," Voldemort said. „He is beyond the ability to hear you."

Harry shook his head in mute denial but he was incapable of tearing his gaze away from the miserable picture of his former professor. This wasn't right. Snape had been so angry, after all. He had wanted to kill Malfoy. So why didn't he move now? Hadn't this been the very reason why he had come along?

„What have you done with him?" he whispered more than he spoke, his eyes still on the man behind him.

Voldemort laughed coldly. "Not much. You may have noticed the waft of dark magic, crossing the false wall, didn't you? Lately, our poor Severus here has been in quite some proximity of dark magic. Indeed, one could even dare to say that he was drenched in it. I fear this new activating spell has triggered some old…Experiences… in his memory."

„Snape, come here!" Malfoy ordered in a clear, loud voice.

Harry just thought that Malfoy couldn't seriously expect Snape to follow that command. He was more shocked when a violent shudder ran through Snape's whole body before he took a hesitating step forwards, straight towards the two dark wizards.

„Professor Snape? What is wrong with you?" Harry urged, as Snape stepped up beside him, his eyes fixed on Malfoy and apparently very intent on following the order. He looked like a puppet on a string, or a wizard under '_Imperius'_. „SNAPE!" Harry yelled now, half desperate, half angry at the inexpressiveness, which was the only thing, apart from the terror, that shone from the man's black orbs. Harry's scream brought a short flicker into Snape's eyes and, for a split second, he seemed to hesitate as if fighting an invisible force.

„Severus Snape. You belong to us. Come here and kneel before your master or you will regret it, I swear!" Malfoy proclaimed loudly.

Another shudder ripped through Snape. He lowered his eyes, shutting them tightly, and bit his lower lip until Harry could make out fresh blood colouring his teeth. Snape seemed to struggle for another second. Then he took some slow steps forward until only a few metres separated him from his former master. Voldemort, too, made a couple of steps toward the invisible shield. That movement was all it took to make Snape flinch violently, before he let himself fall to the ground, touching the marble with his forehead. His whole body was shaking in sheer terror.

Harry couldn't believe his eyes. What the heck were they doing with Snape? As he looked at the pathetic, trembling wreck at Voldemort's feet, cowering in front of the two dark wizards, Harry's chest constricted. This was just sick!

„See, Lucius? A perfect little slave, just like I told you," Voldemort addressed Malfoy, who was smirking in satisfaction. „He's not able to disobey us, no matter how hard he tries."

Malfoy now looked at Harry. „You must forgive us, Potter, but once we saw that Severus was with you, we couldn't help but verify whether we had indeed managed to break him for good. Remarkable, what you can do to a human mind with well-directed torture and manipulation, combined with the right amount of dark magic. You can basically mould one's psyche anew."

„This is abominable," whispered Harry, while his eyes travelled from the man on the ground to Voldemort with disgust.

„But no, my dear Harry. It is perfect. Sometimes you must be cruel to be kind. Severus has betrayed me and I should have killed him. However, I wanted to give him one more chance. His subconsciousness is already programmed to Lucius' and my voice and after another two weeks of training with Lucius, he will be completely broken and with no will of his own, reaching no farther than his desire to please us." The moment Voldemort mentioned a new 'training' with Lucius, Snape made a few, almost inaudible whimpering sounds, which cut through Harry's heart. What they were doing with Snape was absolutely barbaric, and in this very moment, Harry realized that Sirius had been right all along.

„I don't want to lose his talent for potions, you know. Indeed, I have great plans for him. After all, it is much more efficient and easier to kill large groups of Muggles with poison than through raids. And Severus will be happier for it too, in the end. Under my paternal guidance he'll know of no more personal worries or hard choices."

Harry couldn't find any words for this travesty. It just made him sick to his stomach. „We'll see about that. I won't allow you to kill more people."

Voldemort tore his almost inebriated gaze from the cowering potions master and his eyes grew hard again. "Harry Potter," he hissed dangerously. "You have thwarted my plans over and over again. But this will stop here and now, because today you will die!" A motion with his hand and the shield around him and Malfoy glowed once more in a deep azure-blue, before cracks began to form and grow into a spider web of white, jagged lines, wandering in an abstract pattern over the whole surface. With a loud clanking noise, the shield burst apart into thousands of shards which all evaporated in small, puffing blue clouds before they had flown more than a few centimetres.

„Crucio!" 

Harry had been expecting the curse and ducked out of the line of fire. Still in a squatting position, he levelled his own wand and yelled: _„Expelliarmus!"_

Voldemort's wand flew through the air and landed in a dark corner with a hollow 'clonk'. His serpent-like eyes widened in surprise as he realized that he had under-estimated Harry's reaction and his speed. Harry smirked with satisfaction. Years of being a seeker, a lively interest and extra training hours in Defence Against the Dark Arts could do wonder to one's reflexes.

_„Petrificus totalus!"_

Instantly, Harry's limbs snapped together and he couldn't move anymore. He felt himself starting to sway, then tilt to the side, but couldn't do a thing to regain his equilibrium. Like in slow motion he felt himself beginning to fall, before the floor rushed up to meet him. A sharp flare of pain raced up his shoulder as it connected hard with the unforgiving floor. He cursed himself for his foolishness. For a moment he had completely forgotten about Malfoy. He tried to struggle against it but the spell didn't let him move as little as one single muscle. He couldn't even force his eyelids closed, and his eyes started to water at his attempt. A few metres in front of him, Snape was still cowering on the ground. Harry wanted to call to him, will him to get up and help, but the muscles of his mouth , too, were beyond his control as a result of the curse. He felt panic starting to take root in his heart and stomach. He was completely exposed to Voldemort's power. Alone against two powerful dark wizards. Why did he follow them all alone in the first place? No, he hadn't been alone. But who could have guessed that Snape wouldn't be of any help to him. He felt a small spark of anger, anger with which he could cover his growing fear. _Come on, Snape_, he called in his mind. _Up with you. Go get your bloody revenge. And while you're at it, free me from this bloody petrification._

However, nothing happened. Apart from the trembling and the occasional, almost inaudible whimpering, Snape still didn't move. No, Harry couldn't hope to get help from him.

„Not bad Potter, not bad," Voldemort's voice resounded from somewhere near his feet, and then he heard the low squeaking of soft leather-soled boots as Voldemort approached, coming to a halt between him and Snape and thus moving into his line of sight once again.

„Unfortunately, your Gryffindor stupidity has let you forget to keep all your enemies in mind. How overly brainless of you. _Accio,_ wand." Voldemort's wand came flying in an elegant arch and landed in his outstretched hand.

Voldemort smiled evilly down at Harry. „I would take great pleasure in hearing you scream, my dear Harry. Alas, after you have already inconvenienced me so often before, always finding a way to escape my wrath, it would be foolish of me to let you live longer than necessary. So then, farewell, Harry Potter." With a satisfied glimmer in his eyes he pointed his wand at Harry and shouted, _"Avada Kedavra!"_

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_t.b.c._

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	63. And at the end remains…

A/NAs a friend of me once said: One never sees it coming, but come it does.

Actually I was pretty busy of the late and I tried my best to finish the German version before book six comes out. Sadly, I might not even accomplish that and I just couldn't spare any time for the English translation, so I figured that I'd have to make you all wait for after the book, for an update. But now guess what? Cecelle, who has been translating for me my Challenge fic (I translate her Fic instead, which is awesome), unexpectedly sent me the next translated chapter yesterday. Isn't she great? So now you get an update, and even more, an update which is written in a much better English than I manage:-)

On Top of that, Slytherinssilversnake was very fast in helping me out with a question or two and Lucidity did the Betaing in hyper speed.

You have only them to thank for this update.

Chapter 62

_And at the end remains…_

And then a few things happened almost simultaneously. Harry saw the green light coming towards him, unable to even close his eyes in face of the inevitable. As if out of nowhere, a shadow grew up from the floor in front of him.

"_Finite Incantatem!"_ a squeaky voice called out.

Immediately, the stiffness fell off Harry. He blinked automatically - and then he saw Wormtail, dead on the ground.

"Wormtail, you idiot!" Voldemort shouted grimly.

Harry was completely flabbergasted by this sudden turn of events. Peter Pettigrew, the traitor responsible for the death of his parent, had just now saved his life, and in the process – accidentally or willfully - had lost his own. But he seemed to overcome his astonishment quicker than Voldemort, who still seemed to be boiling with anger. Even while still scrambling off the ground, Harry screamed, "_Stupefy!"_

The curse hit Voldemort in the stomach. He was knocked back several meters, and lay dazed on the ground.

"AVADA…"

"NO!"

The two almost simultaneous exclamations and a loud crashing noise made Harry turn around quickly. Malfoy lay motionless next to a heavy oak table, turned over on its side. Between him and Harry stood Dobby. He was turned towards his former master, his arms in front of him in a gesture of defiance.

"Master Malfoy has no power over Dobby any more. Harry Potter freed Dobby. Dobby will not allow you to harm Harry Potter. Dobby can fight back now. Master Malfoy will never order around _this_ house-elves any more."

Relieved, Harry smiled at the house-elf, who was now looking towards him. "Thank you, Dobby."

"Do you really believe that you will be able to defeat me with your childish hexes, Potter? You are not strong enough to match the power of Lord Voldemort," Voldemort's voice was taunting him from his corner of the room. Harry watched as the Dark magician rose to his feet again and threw an angry look in the direction of where Malfoy had fallen to the floor. To Harry's distress, Voldemort didn't appear to be much impaired – he cast an evil, self-assured grin in Harry's direction.

"You surprised me, I have to admit. But now I am warned. You will not succeed in doing that again."

Determined, Harry retook his battle position, but he was getting nervous. He had put all his magical power into the Stunner, yet Voldemort was completely unharmed. Again he asked himself what had possessed him to seek out the most powerful Dark wizard in the world without reinforcements. Snape had previously been quite vocal in his aggravation over the fact that Harry would jump recklessly into dangerous situations without giving it any thought at all. But this time, it had been different. Snape himself had caused him to follow Voldemort – most likely in his blind desire for revenge. And now? Harry suppressed the urge to look at the wizard, who was still hunched up on the ground.

"I am not that easy to defeat, Voldemort, as you will find out in a second." Harry tried hard to sound more confident than he was feeling. If he could just stall Voldemort long enough, he might be able to buy enough time for the others to come to their aid.

Voldemort laughed, shrilly and hissing. "If you are referring to the Prophecy – I discussed that a long time ago with Malfoy. It isn't important. I will kill you, and that will be the end of it."

"Prophecy? What Prophecy?" Harry asked perplexed.

Voldemort only laughed louder. "The old fool didn't tell you about it? Isn't _that_ delicious! I suppose he was trying to protect you from the terrible truth once again."

Harry felt the flame of anger within him fan high like a torch in the wind. It appeared that Voldemort knew something he didn't. Something important; something that they had kept from him yet again.

"What are you talking about?"

Voldemort looked at him arrogantly, yet at the same time amused. "There was this Prophecy about me and you, you know? I only knew a part of it, but before I could find out the rest, I realized that the old fool had destroyed the only known copy in the Ministry. He always wants to protect you, but it doesn't always work out right, does it, Harry? Albus can't protect you any more than your parents could. You know why I killed them, Harry? It was you I was interested in, not them."

Harry sharply sucked in his breath, and balled his fist tightly around his wand, but Voldemort continued to speak unperturbed.

"In the Prophecy it said that one day a child that exactly matched your description would cause me no end of trouble. That is why I wanted to kill you back then. Your parents stood in my way. If you had never existed, they would still be alive."

The flame of anger had now turned into a white-hot inferno. Voldemort was lying. _He_ was the one who was responsible for the death of his parents. He. This monster. Yet the last words of the Dark wizard kept echoing in his head. _If you had never existed, they would still be alive._

"You lie. It isn't my fault," he cried out. "_Avada Kedavra!"_

A sickly, pale-green spark jumped from the end of Harry's wand, and with a _poof _disappeared into nothingnessVoldemort again laughed mockingly. "My, my, Harry. You have to _want_ to kill for the curse to succeed. But you can't do that, can you, my boy? Look here. I'll show you how it works." And with that, the Dark wizard turned his own wand towards Harry.

_"Avada Kedavra!"_

Harry was furious, but at the same time confused. How was he supposed to defeat this powerful wizard, when even his parents had died because of him? For the second time in minutes he watched as the green beam of Voldemort's death curse left his wand and shot towards him. Harry knew that he should duck, but for some odd reasons his legs didn't obey this instinct. He simply could not permit the death of his parents to have been in vain. Because of him, Voldemort had come to Godric's Hollow. Because they had defended him, his parents had died. He knew he had to show himself worthy of this sacrifice, of this unconditional love.

The air around him seemed to grow warmer, and he had the feeling as if gentle, loving hands made of fluid warmth held his wand hand out in front of his chest, while a tender voice whispered soundless words into his spirit.

From the corner of his eyes, he imagined he could see Ron's red head and Hermione's bushy hair, but it was nothing more than the mirage of a dream, and the vision immediately faded again into his spirit. All coldness and fear melted from him, and an all-encompassing feeling of warmth and comfort almost took his breath away.

As if from very far away, he was aware that the green beam of light hit the tip of his wand, as if magnetically attracted, and was absorbed into it. Time seemed to stand still, and everything became white and quiet, with the exception of his wildly beating heart and the loud rush of blood in his ears.

And then there was a terrible bang, and a beam of light, spitting sparks, writhing like a wild, tortured dragon, shot back at Voldemort.

The eyes of the Dark wizard widened in surprise just before the beam of lightning enveloped him. A piercing scream filled the salon and made the panes of glass in the window tremble, just before Voldemort, surrounded by green light, exploded in a hissing ball of fire.

The force of the explosion knocked Harry off his feet, and he landed hard on his back. The wand in his hands erupted in a single, violent flame, and Harry cried out in pain as he dropped it.

It rattled across the polished floor, and Harry watched as his wand burned up in a matter of seconds, until nothing was left but a small pile of black ash. Then, there was ghostly silence.

Harry's whole body hurt, and he was exhausted, tired beyond endurance. Breathing heavily, he let his body sink to the ground and closed his eyes. _Rest. For just one second._

And then it was there again, the gentle touch of warm air, which seemed to envelop and caress him, to settle into his bones and drive away a part of the pain and exhaustion.

_"You have done well, my son."_

Immediately, Harry shot back up. "What, who?" But there was no one there. Yet he could have sworn that he had heard a whisper-soft, feminine voice. Was it imagination? Or could it be… He remembered the feeling of being safe, comforted, almost as if he was being held by…

"Mom," he whispered in an almost inaudible voice, but he did not receive an answer. With a last comforting caress, the warm air slowly faded away, and then it was gone. He sat on the cold marble floor of Malfoy's salon, every bone in his body aching as if he had just run a marathon, and Voldemort…

Voldemort had disappeared. Just a few scraps of burned cloth and a scattered pile of ashes were visible where once there had stood the most powerful Dark wizard in the world. Could it really be true? Was Voldemort really dead? Instinctively, he felt for his scar. No stinging or burning any more? No more visions through the cursed old wound? At the moment he could only feel the normal, slightly wrinkled tissue of an ordinary scar.

But if it was finally over, why was he feeling no joy? Why was there just melancholy emptiness in his heart, and the feeling of loss? At the same moment he asked himself the question he already knew the answer. The price had been too high. He was sure now that it had been his parents who had helped him to defeat Voldemort – and they could only do that because they were _dead_.

And how high a price had Snape paid? Harry was certain that the picture of the broken man would haunt him for the rest of his life. He was all of a sudden aware just how much of what he had initiated with his letter had been sheer crap. Crap of such magnitude that he had caused things worse than death to happen to a man. He would have never considered the thought possible before, but at the moment, he honestly believed that it would have been better for Snape had he not survived having his throat slit. How could he ever again stand in front of the Potions master and look him in the eyes?

Drawing in courage with a deep breath, he turned towards the man. First he should probably at least check how the Potions master was doing.

Harry really had hoped that his former teacher would have awoken from his rigidity on his own, now that Voldemort was dead. And that he would not have to pry him off the floor with his own two hands. His wish was only partially fulfilled. Snape actually _was_ back on his feet, but he was far removed from coming out of his horror-induced - rigidity. Even though he seemed to slowly get himself together to a certain degree, and something like consciousness stole back into his black eyes, it was obvious that he was still incapable of defending himself. Malfoy's psychic restraints over him were too strong.

And then there was the fact that he was only on his feet because Lucius Malfoy was holding him up.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

T.B.C.


	64. settling old accounts

_A/N Sorry for the wait. In my Biopage I tried to explain, why it took so long to update, since we're not supposed to do that here:). Thanks to all who've been waiting faitfully all this time. (Hugztoall)_

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The platinum blonde man stood near Snape next to a dark, antiquated-looking musical instrument that resembled an angular grand piano. He grinned contemptuously at Harry over the Potions master's shoulder, the tip of his wand pressed so firmly against the other man's neck that it left an indentation in his skin.

"One wrong move, and he is dead, Potter."

Harry didn't have the slightest intention of endangering Snape, but he knew instinctively that a quick death would actually be Snape's best case scenario should he allow Malfoy to leave with him. If worst came to worst, Snape would again be left subject to Malfoy and his sadistic inclinations for an unknown length of time. The Dark Lord had admitted freely that Snape was explicitly programmed to obey the voice of Malfoy and the now-dead Voldemort himself.

A last look at Snape, and he decided. Resolutely, he lifted his wand and aimed it at Malfoy's head.

The blonde wizard blinked in surprise, but pulled himself together quickly and sneered. "I am not joking, Potter."

"Neither am I, Malfoy," hissed Harry. He had just defeated the most dangerous Dark wizard of the age. A snob like Malfoy would_ not_ get the better of him. "I will have cast my curse before you will be able to finish yours. Let him go."

Malfoy laughed quietly. "But are you quick enough to keep me from ramming my wand through his throat? It would be a quite unpleasant death for him; that, I can guarantee." The wand tip pushed a few millimeters deeper into the skin of Snape's neck, and Harry hesitated. To be honest, he couldn't be sure. He was playing with Snape's life again – but then again, it wouldn't be any different if he let Malfoy leave with him. Despairingly, he looked into the eyes of his former teacher. There was no doubt now that consciousness was returning, but next to the still dominant fear, he could now see resignation in Snape's eyes. Snape simply _couldn't _fight against Malfoy, no matter how much he might hate himself for that later.

With his eyes, Harry tried to catch the Potions master's gaze. "I am sorry, Professor. Honestly sorry. About everything," he whispered before tuning back towards Malfoy.

"I guess we will just have to find out, Malfoy," he said firmly.

Malfoy grinned wickedly. "So you are willing to risk the life of your teacher? I never realized before now just how much he managed to make his students hate him."

Harry knew that Malfoy was simply trying to goad him, but against his better judgment the words of the other wizard made him angry. "I _don't _hate him. Not any more."

"Well then, let us try. You won't kill me. You don't have it in you. The Dark Lord was not really alive, that is why you were able to destroy him. But with me, there is no other way than to use the death curse – and that you can't manage to apply _that_ properly you have proven already."

"But I can hold you here until the Aurors come. If you kill Professor Snape, you will no longer have a shield."

Malfoy's eyes began to glitter. "It might be worth it to me, don't you see? I will get out of prison soon enough, but _you_ will have Severus' death on your conscience."

Harry tried to ignore Malfoy's words. He had to act quickly, or his determination would dwindle away. But before he could even think of an appropriate curse to take Malfoy out of commission as quickly as possible, he heard a dull thud. Malfoy stiffened, and his eyes widened in surprise.

Behind Malfoy, on the keyboard cover of the grand piano, stood Dobby, wielding a soot-covered frying pan as a weapon. As if in slow motion, Malfoy let go of Snape, lifted a hand to the back of his head, and looked without comprehension at the blood that came away with it. His gaze went from his hand to the house-elf, and he took an unsteady step in his direction before his legs gave out and he fell forward, hit his head hard against the edge of the instrument, and slid to the ground.

For an endless moment, nobody moved. Then, as in slow motion, Snape turned around, and looked first at Malfoy's motionless body, and then, still as if in slow motion, looked up at the house-elf.

The small creature returned the gaze for just a moment, but immediately dropped the frying pan, which – with a dull 'clank' – landed first on the piano, and then with a deafening clatter crashed onto the polished marble floor. The house-elf turned his nearly despairing gaze on Harry. "Dobby just wanted to tell the others where Harry Potter Sir and Professor Snape Sir were. Dobby saw how bad Master threatened Harry Potter and Professor. He just wanted to help. Dobby did not want to kill Master Malfoy. House-elves should not kill wizards…"

The little house-elf had both hands pressed to his head, clawing his skull as if he wanted to scratch something really terrible out of it.

Harry was at his side with two steps, grasped Dobby's hands, and forced them away from his head before he could hurt himself.

"Stop that, Dobby. You didn't do anything bad. You don't have to punish or berate yourself. Your deed probably saved the day. Malfoy is almost as dangerous as Voldemort himself, or he could have risen to that level if given the chance."

Inadvertently, Harry's gaze wandered back to Snape, who hadn't said a word, his eyes fixed on Malfoy. He had experienced Malfoy's truly evil nature today, in a horrible display that he would most likely not forget for as long as he lived.

His words seemed to calm the house-elf to a certain degree, and the desperation in his gaze gave way to doubt. In the end, he even managed a smile, and a trace of thankfulness and pride lay across his features.

"We don't even know yet if he is really dead," Harry said, smiling back at him.

He knelt down next to Malfoy. Since the man's contorted body lay on his side, it wasn't particularly hard for Harry to turn him on his back.

Sightless, wide-open pale eyes stared at the ceiling.

"I suppose that answers that question," Harry murmured, and then looked back up at Dobby, whose bat-like ears were starting to droop. He didn't look proud at all any more, but at least he didn't seem full of self-condemnation either, thank God.

Again, his gaze wandered to the motionless figure of his former teacher. Without turning his eyes away, he continued speaking to the house-elf. "Go and see where everyone else is, please."

With a 'plop' the small creature disappeared, and Harry straightened back up.

"Sir?"

"He is dead," Snape whispered after a minute of uncomfortable silence, his expression still as rigid and expressionless as his voice.

"Sir?" Harry asked again.

Slowly, the Potions master looked towards him, and Harry had to suppress a shiver. Snape's jet-black eyes gave away not emotions whatsoever.

"I didn't know what they…I mean, I want…"

With his hand, he brushed his hair back from his forehead, and lowered his eyes. "Oh, I don't know what I want. Nothing I could ever say would be enough. The devastation my letter has caused can never be fixed with an apology."

"You should never have seen this," Snape whispered tonelessly, as if he hadn't heard him.

Harry looked up at him again, and noticed that Snape's gaze was back on the dead body of Malfoy. "I know, Sir," he said, just as quietly. "Maybe you should… I mean, if you want to, you are welcome to Obliviate me."

Slowly, Snape looked up, and his eyebrow lifted a bare millimeter. "Then you would forget all about the final fight."

Harry swallowed. He knew that only too well. Snape would probably expect him to boast and gloat about how he had defeated Voldemort, but at the moment, he didn't give a fig about all that. "It would be a small price to pay to make up for my mistake, and by far not enough. But it would be a start. Obliviate me, Professor."

And then Snape did something completely un-Snapish, something that shook Harry to the core. He sighed deeply, and then with his left hand gave Harry a short pat on the shoulder.

"That will not be necessary. It seems that I was only programmed , through Dark magic and…torture, to follow the voices of those two alone. They are now dead. It's over, Potter."

"Are you certain?" Harry asked carefully. He never thought that he would ever have such a human conversation with the formerly hated Slytherin. But now that was the case, and he would have given anything to undo the horrible way Snape had been forced to this point of humanness.

Snape looked directly at him again. "It is over. The others will be here soon. I can hear them in front of the door. Go and tell them that the Dark Lord is dead once and for all."

With a loud bang, the massive wooden door was lifted off its hinges behind them, and several people pushed through. With a last, intense look at Snape and the silent oath that from now on, he would do all he could to prove to Snape that he was sincerely penitent, he turned towards the new arrivals.

Especially one of these new arrivals caused a warm, happy feeling to spread through Harry's midsection. "Sirius!" he called out happily as he saw his godfather push through the door at Dumbledore's side, alive and well, followed by Shacklebolt, Tonks, and two Aurors he didn't recognize.

Forgetting Snape for a moment, he hurried towards the older wizard and fell around his neck like a small child, which didn't matter at all at the moment. Sirius seemed to feel the same way, because he returned the hug equally fiercely.

"Are you all right, Harry? Dobby told us that Malfoy and Voldemort lured you into a trap?"

He held Harry at arms length, and examined him from top to bottom, as if he were looking for hidden wounds.

"I'm fine, Sirius," Harry answered with laughter in his voice. "Voldemort is dead. This time for good."

"Where is he?" Dumbledore asked in a worried voice. Harry simply pointed to what was left of Voldemort. Ashes.

Dumbledore look over to the Potions master, and his expression grew even softer. "Are you all right, Severus?"

Snape simply nodded. Harry was glad that Snape seemed to have recovered quite quickly. Even so, he would have expected at least a warning glance in his direction – but Snape didn't pay any attention to him at all any more. It didn't matter. He had no intention to ever tell anyone about Snape's breakdown. At least for the moment, and for as long as Snape was able to deal with it without help.

Sirius whistled quietly through his teeth. "Did you really…?" He didn't finish the sentence.

Harry just nodded, and said, "Pettigrew is dead. He saved my life."

Dumbledore needed a bit too long to follow the sudden change in topic. But Sirius reacted immediately, and turned to the two Aurors. "Ha, what did you say? Something about arresting me? Instead, I will be glad to accept your apologies."

As what Harry and Sirius had said sank in, the two let their eyes wander around the office. Their eyes widened when they saw the ash pile that was all that remained of Voldemort, and when they saw Pettigrew's corpse and the dead body of Malfoy, they turned a hefty shade paler. "But that…" began the female Auror.

"Is that Malfoy? But I thought he was under the Imperius back then…" the other one whispered.

"As if. I have always suspected him, Brion. The slimy thug," said the tall, lanky woman with the short, tightly-curled hair. She seemed to have pullled herself together again and turned to Sirius. "Of course the Ministry will have to confirm the exact identity of Pettigrew, but that, together with Dumbledore's word, should remove all doubts about your story from the minds of most of us Aurors."

"I fear that we will have to be the bearers of bad news to Draco and his mother," Dumbledore said with a sigh and a regretful shake of the head as he looked at Malfoy's body. His gaze for a moment fixed on the frying pan, half hidden on the floor under the piano, and his eyebrows lifted in astonishment. "How did Malfoy die? Who caused his wound?"

Dumbledore's eyes widened when a repentant Dobby Apparated behind Harry and looked at him with a hesitating smile.

Turning to Harry, he asked, "_Dobby_?"

Harry nodded and said, "When Malfoy was trying to kill me, Dobby whacked him over the head with the frying pan. He saved my life, just like Wormtail." He purposely left out that the house-elf had really saved Snape's life as well. He didn't know if a life debt was incurred when a house-elf saved a wizard's life, the way it would be if another wizard was responsible for that act. He doubted it, since house-elves, especially among purebloods, were not valued much higher than animals – and yet it was expected that they would do everything necessary to save the wizards' life, even if it cost them their own. Even so, Harry didn't really want to draw Snape's attention to that fact, especially after Malfoy and Voldemort had already trampled his pride and self-respect underfoot so completely.

Dumbledore's expression brightened. Turning towards Dobby, he said, "That was good work, Dobby. My sincere thanks."

He didn't get any further, because, while the female Auror moved over to the pile of ashes, her partner gave a signal towards the corridor. Immediately, two more Aurors, the Weasley men, and a very grim-looking Molly entered the room, the latter accompanied by Remus, who had one arm in a sling.

Harry noticed, that there were more people who had sustained small injuries, and that some people were entirely absent, among them Professor McGonagall.

"There were more and more Death Eaters, but we were either able to hold them off, or they fled," said Sirius, who seemed to have guessed his thoughts. "A few of us are hurt, but we have no deaths to mourn, thanks be to Merlin."

He didn't get any further and neither did Harry get a chance to ask questions, because right then two more figures stormed into the room, and Harry found himself nearly knocked over and fiercely hugged by Hermione and Ron. From the corner of his eye, he could make out the massive bulk of Hagrid, even though Hermione's bushy hair covered most of his field of vision. Under the onslaught of questions from his friends, he was barely able to make out that the half-giant was trying justify himself in a defensive voice. "I'm really sorry, Molly, but they forced me. I don' have a wand, as yeh know…"

He missed the rest, as well as the rapidly spreading euphoria among the people in the room as they processed the news of Voldemort's final demise, as he focused all his attention on his friends.


	65. and then everything's different

Looks like this summer has not been easy for both, me and my wonderful translator Cecelle, but things are slowing down a bit. I'm also back on track translating her wonderful English fic 'Mist and vapor' into German. Go check it out. It's really good.

Big thanks to her and also to all those wonderful reviewers and readers and the patience you are showing with this fic. I can tell you that I'm back writing and that this fic WILL befinished.

And then everything's different

Severus looked back at Lucius' outstretched body. Even in death, his pale, sightless eyes wide open, the man had managed to preserve a certain dignity. As he lay on his back, arms splayed at his side, the expensive fabric of his robe flaring around him, he still looked like a fallen angel. Noble even in death. Severus had thought that the death of the man who had sent him through hell would be a cause for rejoicing. That it would make up for everything that had been done to him, but nothing of the kind had happened. There was no satisfaction, no justice.

He still felt a hopeless emptiness inside of himself. An emptiness that swallowed even the faintest hint of satisfaction immediately. While staring at Lucius' corpse -- at the mortal remains of the man who had once been his friend, only to later become his demon, who had humiliated him again and again, who had even cheated him out of getting his revenge – he felt absolutely… nothing.

It didn't matter, he realized all of a sudden.

All his glorious dreams of revenge, his longing to make the man pay, had brought a certain purpose to his life, a goal that was worth fighting for. But that was over now, all at once, and now he simply felt tired.

He heard the joyous shouts of the victors. They were cheering Harry Potter, celebrating Voldemort's demise with loud exclamations, but even that left him cold. Once, long ago, there had been a time when he had longed for this day, but now he couldn't quite comprehend why any more. He looked up and saw how friends and brothers-in-arms fell into each other's arms and cried for joy. Tonks hugged a tired but happy Dumbledore, and Weasley pressed a quick kiss on the lips of a surprised Granger. Potter, grinning broadly in spite of the thin trickle of blood that ran from his forehead across his face, was carried on the shoulders of the Weasley twins and an Auror he didn't recognize.

The victory over the Dark Lord had turned even strangers into friends, united in their joy over a happily overcome threat. There was no reason not to celebrate.

No reason at all…

They were all happy… friends… united.

His gaze sank back down to Malfoy's body. This had been his friend, since earliest childhood. No one else seemed inclined to include the aloof, hated Slytherin in the festivities. Not that he would have wanted to. He had worked hard at being left alone. His whole life. The only man who had never let the act impress him, neither when they had been friends nor when he had been Lucius' prisoner, had just been killed. By a damnable, miserable house-elf with a frying pan.

His hatred for the man had flickered out with his life. There was nothing left. Neither anger nor joy, just emptiness. Potter had seen him stripped of all dignity, had seen how weak he was. Not even the thought that this was James Potter's final triumph, even though he had been rotting for years in his casket, bothered him now. Nothing mattered. He knelt down and gently closed the dead man's eyes. "You won, Lucius. I hope that makes you happy, wherever you are."

He stood up and looked once again at the jubilant throng. As always, no one paid attention to him. Voldemort was dead, and his work for the Order was finished. His life had been snatched away from him years ago, when he had joined the Dark Lord. When he had realized that fact, he had transferred that life from Voldemort to Dumbledore, and now, in the end, Malfoy had succeeded in ripping even his soul from him. Now he had nothing left. He felt completely drained and old. He was tired, so tired, and all he now wanted to do was sleep.

He turned away his gaze and vanished from the grand salon.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Sirius finally pulled out of a tight embrace from his old friend Lupin, but he left his arm loosely around the werewolf's shoulder. He could have shouted for joy. For the first time in twenty years, he felt truly free. Voldemort was dead, the constant danger to Harry had been banished, and Peter's body would once and for all prove his innocence. And the whole thing, thanks to Dumbledore's elaborate plan, had been executed without much loss of blood on their side.

Life was good.

Of course most of the Death Eaters were still on the run, but now that Voldemort was dead and Malfoy's financial tab had been turned off, it would only be a matter of time until they ran off for good or were caught. Since Snape now would also receive a full pardon for his sins, the Slytherin was now free to deliver to the Ministry an exact list of all Death Eaters known to him.

Instinctively, Sirius looked around for the former spy. A bit off to the side lay Malfoy. Whenever Snape had talked about the man, there had been so much hatred in the Potion master's eye that it didn't take much guesswork to figure out that the blond man had something to do with the torture the he had been submitted to. Sirius was still convinced that there was something about the way Snape was acting which proved that he had not really processed all that had happened. Maybe Malfoy's death would mean a return to normalcy for him.

But where was Snape? Why wasn't he celebrating with them? Oh well. A celebrating Snape was something that the world would probably never experience (and probably didn't really need to, for that matter.) But in that case, why wasn't he standing around somewhere, casting dark and disapproving glances at everyone else?

"Have you seen Snape?" he asked Remus.

"He was just standing near Malfoy, but after that, I can't remember seeing him. Maybe he wanted to go see Draco, to give him the news in person? He is the Slytherins' Head of House, after all. "

Sirius furrowed his forehead. He couldn't really believe _that._ An uncomfortable feeling was starting to spread inside of him, making him uneasy. Since his sojourn with Voldemort, Snape had shown no interest whatsoever in the affairs of his school or his House.

"I'll go and check," he said as casually as possible, getting more uneasy by the minute. Remus just nodded, and moved to rescue Harry from a horde of overly boisterous congratulants.

Sirius walked over to the corner where Malfoy's corpse lay completely ignored by everyone. '_Only serves you right, you snobbish bastard_,' he thought with a disgusted look at the dead man.

Sirius hunted around for Snape, but the Potions master was nowhere to be found. With a sigh he transformed into his dog shape, to use his sharper senses to search for the man, but regretted the act immediately. The acrid smell of blood, burned flesh, and death hung in the room. Even so, he forced himself to keep his shape, but moved away a few steps from Malfoy's dead body. Snape's scent trail lay heavy in the air, and Sirius was able to follow it easily. The trace split, one part trailing off towards the direction where Snape and Harry had entered the room, the other leading to a small door.

He followed this trail through the door into a corridor, no less pompous than the grand salon. The floor was covered in marble tiles, arranged in elegant patterns, polished to mirror brightness. Cathedral ceilings rose to more than twenty feet above his head. Every few yards, bright light flooded through the tall windows, illuminating many larger-than-life, richly embellished paintings of angry and disdainful men and women, an unnatural number of which had platinum-blond hair.

Sirius followed the trail down the corridor, ignoring the occasional cuss words and arrogant remarks made by the people on the canvasses.

He held down his head, nose almost touching the floor. That the rooms in this house were so scrupulously clean made it a lot easier for him to follow the trail, as if it were a brightly glowing thread, and he immediately noted when it took a sharp right turn and seemed to disappear behind a painting on the wall.

Just fantastic. A hidden doorway. How on earth was he supposed to get through that?

"The damned house-elf killed Lucius. Mireille from the grand salon told us, and now I even had to let the traitor Snape into the secret laboratory, just because he knew the password," a voice complained petulantly above him. "And as if that wasn't enough, now here comes this dirty beast, about to slobber all over my frame. – Get out of here, you beast," screeched an old man with a heavily wrinkled face and light blue, misty eyes that lay deep in their sockets.

Sirius took a step back and re-assumed his human form.

"An Animagus?"

Sirius looked at the old relic in the picture. In spite of his old age, the man had the trademark Malfoy arrogance in his posture. He seemed to be more injured in his dignity than truly sorry about the fact that Lucius had been killed.

"Who are you? A friend of Snape's?" the old man sneered, spoiling for a fight.

Sirius could smell the chance of getting through the passage without knowing the password. He could only hope that the portrait had not heard of him personally, so he glared at it with the most arrogant sneer he could muster. "My name is Sirius Black. I am tracking Snape down." That part was not even a lie.

The old man leaned forward slightly, trying to get a better look at him. "A Black, then. An old, pure, and honorable family. I knew old Marcos Black quite well. Was always a useful ally." His thoughtful face hardened again. "But so was Sixtus Snape. And yet, the youngest scion of this family turned out a despicable, ill-begotten mistake."

"I can assure you that Snape and I have been enemies for years," Sirius dissembled. Even that wasn't a lie, he noticed with amusement, but he banished the smile before it could show on his face.

"Will you do away with him if I let you through? That misbegotten freak should have been drowned immediately after birth."

"I'll take care of him," Sirus assured him.

'Very well then…" The old Malfoy stretched out the words, and then finally the portrait swung off to the side, revealing the entrance to a dark staircase, lit every few yards by magical torches, disappearing into the depth.

Sirius followed the stairs, which soon turned into a passage. This led on another few yards, and ended in front of a half-opened door cobbled together from rough-hewn boards.

Sirius stepped through it and entered a laboratory very similar to Snape's Potions office. Just like there, shelves lined the walls, filled to the ceiling with books and mason jars. Curious, he pulled an especially ancient book out from a stack on a small stone table.

"_Potion Efficacy Enhancement through Human Organ Use_."

Sirius dropped the book as if it had burned him. This publication was pure Dark magic. Human organs hadn't been used in potions since the Middle Ages, when it was discovered that animal organs had nearly the same effect, even if the efficacy was occasionally slightly weakened.

It shouldn't have surprised him to find such a book here.

"Snape?" he called into the room, returning finally to his reason for being here. He didn't receive an answer; neither could he see the Slytherin anywhere. But he had to be here. The room was not particularly large, and only had the one door. Even though it would not be hard to miss a human shape in the overstuffed chaos that reigned in the space. Systematically, he walked along the bookshelves, past the stone sink and the cold fireplace with its cauldron, over to the massive desk that stood about one yard from the wall in the back corner of the room. He walked around the desk, and there, crouched against the brick wall, was Severus Snape.

"What are you doing here?"

Snape looked up as if in slow motion. The Slytherin looked very tired, Sirius thought. His eyes were dull, and he was paler than usual.

"Leave me alone, Black," Snape said, letting his head sink down again.

Sirius was taken aback. He had never heard Snape's voice this weak and empty.

"What is wrong with you? You should be glad that You-Know-Who is dead."

Snape didn't react at all, and Black exhaled in exasperation. But then he saw something that made all his alarm bells go off shrilly. Where Snape was sitting, a wet, red trickle ran out from under his cloak and spread out slowly over the floor. Next to him, half hidden under the fabric of his robes, he saw the hilt of a knife. A small phial of amber liquid lay next to it, stopper still in place

"Snape? What did you do?" Panic seized Sirius. He knelt down next to Snape and grasped his arms, buried in the fabric of his robe. Snape didn't fight him, but just looked on listlessly as Sirius lifted his arms by the hands and stared at them in shock. The leather strap that had secured Snape's wand was still tied loosely around the wrist, even if the wand itself was gone. The short, elegant leather gloves only reached up to the wrist, and as the sleeves of Snape's robe slipped back, the Animagus had a good view of the ugly wounds on Snape's wrists. A steady stream of blood still flowed from deep, lengthwise cuts.


	66. Realizations and Confessions

**Chapter 66:**

_Realizations and Confessions_

"WHAT DID YOU DO?" Sirius shouted. He had known it. He had known it, and Albus hadn't believed him. He brandished his wand and pointed it at the wounds. "_Reparo arterio_." The wounds stopped bleeding, but the muscle and skin stayed severed. Sirius' knowledge of human anatomy was quite inadequate, and he didn't dare to try and undo all the damage. For the moment it was enough that Snape wasn't losing any more blood. He could feel his pulse as he held on to his lower arms; it was slightly faster than normal, but still strong.

With another sweep of his wand, he cut two long pieces of fabric from Snape's cloak and knotted them around the bloody wounds. All this time, Snape had put up no resistance, and was watching him with detachment, as if this was all happening to someone else. He didn't even flinch at the rough treatment of his open wounds.

"I couldn't open the phial with the poison. My hands still don't have enough sensation. The knife was easier," the Slytherin finally murmured, almost apologetically.

That brought Sirius tenuous patience to an abrupt end. He brought his face very close to the Slytherin's, without letting go of his wrists. "WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING?"

Snape just looked at him, and the moist sheen over his pupils let Sirius realize that it wasn't simple apathy that held the Slytherin in its grasp, but deep hopelessness. He leaned back slightly. "Why, Snape? _Why?"_

"Because I'm already dead. Lucius killed me."

"What a load of rubbish. Malfoy is dead. That should be enough payback for you. You've had your revenge."

Snape just shook his head and sighed softly. To see the Slytherin like this was unsettling. Sirius had never thought he'd ever see such a human side to Snape. "What happened?"

Again Snape just shook his head.

"Stubborn Slytherin. Do you think you can tell me much of anything I can't relate to? Don't you remember who you're talking to? Someone who lived with Dementors for twelve bloody years is probably going to understand what happened to you! I had assumed that you could deal with what happened on your own, but now—" he lifted Snape's bandaged arms slightly, to lend emphasis to his words, "—I know that you obviously can't. I have no intention of letting you die here after all the work I put into nursing you. And if still won't tell me what is the matter, then I'll _make_ you."

Finally a bit of life returned to the black eyes. "And how do you propose to manage that? Force Veritaserum down my throat?"

"If I have to…" Sirius was slowly losing patience once more.

"You wouldn't understand." Snape voice again sounded simply tired, and his answer contained neither self pity nor mockery. He was merely stating a fact.

"I wouldn't be so sure of that. Look, Snape. I'm offering you a chance to unload. I'll listen, no matter how bad it is, and I promise to keep everything you tell me to myself." Sirius didn't know what possessed him to make the offer, but after all the weeks he had watched Snape go downhill, in which he had waited for an explosion of some kind, he had developed a kind of pride, had wanted to _show_ Dumbledore and all those who hadn't believed him. Now that he had been proven right, it had awakened his curiosity, and he wanted to find out what exactly had thrown the Slytherin so off track. When Snape still didn't say anything, he gave a short sigh and decided on a drastic step.

"You're pretty good at Occlumency and Legilimency, I've heard. So I'll make you an offer, and I hope you realize _what_ I am offering. Look into my mind and see for yourself what I experienced in Azkaban. I'm ready to trust you with my memories, if you will do the same afterwards." Sirius had trouble forcing the suggestion out of his throat. To let anyone, especially Snape, rummage through his memories went completely against his grain, but he wanted to know what had happened to the man, why he was ready to take his own life. His curiosity was stronger than his discomfort. And Snape wouldn't see anything that he couldn't imagine anyway, after his own short sojourn in the prison. Sirius was confident that he could keep Snape out of his other memories, should the Slytherin push too far in.

"Black, we've hated each other for as long as we've known each other. We've always been enemies, so why, by Merlin's beard, should I trust _you _of all people?"

The words were still lacking the sharpness that should have been there, and Sirius felt a kind of despondency rise up in himself. "I'm your worst enemy, Snape, and exactly that makes me something close to a best friend. And since you'll never have a best friend, anyway… I've known you your whole life, as you have know me. We have too much of a history together. And since at this point, what happens to you doesn't seem to matter much to you, anyway…why not? You have nothing to lose."

For a while, Snape didn't react at all. Sirius let go of the wrists and almost resigned himself to the fact that he might never find out the whole truth.

The Slytherin let his hands rest on his lap for a moment, his eyes on his bandaged wrists. Finally he took a deep breath, reached to his side, and with stiff fingers pulled his wand from a fold of his robe. His hand trembled slightly, and Sirius asked himself if that was due to the blood loss or something else.

"You probably are right. It doesn't really matter any more. – I'll show you a part, but not everything," he added tiredly a moment later.

Sirius hadn't really believed that the clichéd phrase that 'Snape had nothing to lose anyway' would have any effect, but apparently that exactly was the case.

The Potions master tried to straighten up, but, breathing heavily, sank back down to the floor. A thin film of sweat formed on his forehead.

"No strength… Has to work like this," he gasped.

Sirius pursed his lips. "That's what you get when you carve holes into your body with knives." He continued a bit more cordially, "Can I help you with something? What do I do?"

Snape took a few deep breaths. "Nothing. Just sit." For a while, he looked deep into Sirius' eyes, and a fleeting shadow of doubt showed in the black eyes, but immediately disappeared again, making room for hopelessness. At this point in time, nothing mattered to Snape. He lifted his wand with difficulty, using the heel of his thumb to push it against the rest of his hand, and pointed it at Sirius. "_Legilimens," _he whispered, a resigned sigh in his voice.

The sensation that gripped Sirius was more than uncomfortable. It felt as if memories from the depth of his soul were being pulled to the upper regions of his consciousness. Unable to do anything about it, he felt memories float to the surface and form pictures in his mind's eye. His mother, as she screamed at him; the news of his brother's death; cold, hunger, fear, and hopelessness in a barren cell.

Panic overwhelmed Sirius. He hadn't expected for control to be wrested from him so effectively. It hadn't been planned like this. He began to fight against the intrusion, but he could do nothing except feel fear slowly crawl up inside of him. Snape also seemed to sense that, and the invisible power that had retrieved the memories from the depth of his brain seemed to ebb – and then, suddenly, there were other pictures. Pictures that didn't belong to him. Again in Azkaban, but in a different cell. This one was high in the tower, to judge by the icy draft that whistled through the high, slitted window. Snape sat in a corner, trying in vain to curl up tightly enough to preserve some body heat. Then he was in the court room, seeing Snape sit on a chair. Somewhere from the audience he heard Ron's voice. "_I hope we get to watch when he gets Kissed."_ Then a grand salon, and a very pregnant woman. Snape stood before her, killing her without blinking an eye, Voldemort behind him. The next picture was slightly blurry, mingling with one of his own memories of listening to the noises of the prison in his dog form. It was almost as if Snape for a moment had lost command over his own memories, and was trying to regain control, but couldn't quite manage any more. The picture never did move into focus, and then he was back in the pompous salon; Voldemort was pressing Snape tightly against his chest, right before the Dark wizard cut the Potions master's throat. Sirius' breath hitched as he watched. He had already known what had happened, but now, seeing it for himself, he suddenly understood why Harry had been so affected, and why Snape still had nightmares about it. This had to be one of the most brutal and painful ways to die. But Snape wasn't dead. The memories switched again, and now he was in a sort of dungeon, Lucius Malfoy standing in front of him.

And exactly at that moment the ability to consciously control what was happening seemed to completely slip away from the Slytherin.

Sirius could not have put it into words, but suddenly it felt as if he was not just looking at pictures, but sensing Snape's emotions. A tidal wave of anger, shame and fear broke over him, and neither his present good intentions nor his years in Azkaban had prepared him for what he was experiencing now. The more pictures he saw, rolling across his mind with brutal intensity, almost in slow motion; the more he experienced as if in first person what had happened to Snape during his captivity; the more his stomach was heaving. The memories unfolded in front of him as if he himself was in the room with Snape. He watched as his body was mutilated, and listened in as Snape's spirit was manipulated and damaged. The physical torture was worse than he had expected, though he had seen the wounds himself, even bandaged them more than once, but what made him feel more nauseated than anything else was the psychological game Malfoy had played with the Slytherin, as he watched Snape's desperate attempts to preserve some dignity.

The longer the memories went on, the more he saw Snape's proud façade crumble away. When he watched as Malfoy enticed Snape to run away, only to recapture and punish him later, he started to get angry at Malfoy. As he later saw how Malfoy's persuasive talk about Dumbledore's behavior seemed to little by little get to Snape, as he watched Snape start to doubt, that anger started including the Potions master. His conscience told him that it wasn't Snape's fault, but his will didn't want to listen.

Everything he had to observe was repulsive and awful, but Snape's present condition, his depression and hopelessness, only became comprehensible as Sirius watched in horror as Malfoy killed child after child and each time told Snape that this was _his_ fault, that he could have saved this one. All he was still capable of feeling at that point was helpless desperation, and he didn't know how much of that emotion was him channeling Snape, and how much was his own. And then he watched as Snape – crying and wearing a dog collar – finally lost all pride and broke. As Snape knelt in front of Voldemort, the last shreds of dignity torn from him, Sirius' stomach threatened to revolt once and for all. For a moment, the image of Snape cowering before Voldemort hung in front of his eyes, before his surroundings grew blurry for second and the small cell changed into the grand salon, a shocked Harry as the spectator – and then they were back in the cell.

Sirius gathered all his strength to push the images away, to free himself from Snape's emotions which threatened to overwhelm him. He searched the most distant regions of his mind for anything he had ever read about Occlumency and lifted his mental shields. "_Protego_," he gasped, and as the thread that linked him to Snape was severed, the last memories, of Snape on a pile of corpses, staring at a decomposing skull, disappeared.

Sirius fell back a little, as if he himself had been released from a bond. He had started to fear that he would never be able to escape from Snape's memories. That he had managed to push Snape out with what little he knew about Occlumency and without using his wand showed that something had gone totally wrong. At the first image of the torture, Snape had completely lost control, and his Legilimency had taken on a life of its own. And after all he had now seen, Sirius knew exactly why. Small wonder.

He pulled himself back up and looked at Snape, who was still sitting in the corner, shoulders and head bent down and…crying?

Snape was indeed sobbing softly to himself, and the sound was so desperate that the picture of Snape cowering in front of Voldemort came back to Sirius, more than once.

"I didn't want to…" Snape whispered between two sobs, and Sirius with monumental astonishment watched the tears running down the man's cheeks. "You weren't supposed to see…I lost…control…again. I tried. I wanted them to kill me. I wanted to beat them, just once…but I failed, again. I've had to fight since I was born. Nothing was ever just handed to me…but I always had my pride. No one could take that away from me…or so I thought…" He looked at Sirius, tears in his lashes. "I just…can't any more."

Something broke inside of Sirius as he faced the self-loathing and disappointment in Snape's voice. This wasn't the nasty Slytherin he knew, with a hateful sneer on his face and an insult on his lips. No matter who it was sitting across from him right now, he couldn't have responded with a nasty comeback. Looking at this weeping, broken man, it was simply impossible to hold on to the deep hatred that he normally felt for Snape.

He looked helplessly at the Slytherin. He felt completely out of his depth. He could deal with a cynical, nasty Snape, but this was beyond the scope of his experience. This was still Snape, but for the first time, he was also a human being who had been deeply hurt and who desperately needed help. Help that Sirius was incapable of providing. What could he say to a man who had been through things like _that_? It was bordering on a miracle that he hadn't completely lost his mind. For weeks Snape had squashed his emotions, keeping them bottled up the way he always did, but now it had become too much. The recent confrontations, first with Malfoy and Voldemort and then with his own memories, certainly hadn't helped.

If only he hadn't followed the Slytherin, whispered the egotistical part of himself, and the thought made him sick the moment it appeared. Snape deserved all the help he could get. None of them had realized the scope of exactly how much help he needed.

Snape had again lowered his head and wasn't even trying to suppress his sobs. Gone was the arrogant façade, and for the first time in his life Sirius looked into Snape's soul. He scooted a little closer to the man and uncertainly lifted his hand to put it on Snape's shoulder in a gesture of comfort, but he hesitated in the middle of the movement. The Slytherin wouldn't put up with that kind of a gesture from him. But then this destroyed man only bore a faint resemblance to the Snape he knew… _Oh, to hell with it_, he thought as he, following an impulse, reached for the other man's shoulders and pulled him into a firm, comforting embrace. To his surprise, Snape didn't put up any kind of a fight, but leaned against him heavily, as if Sirius was his one remaining support in this world. Maybe he was.

This realization caused the last remaining doubts to fall away, and he gently, encouragingly, stroked Snape's back with his hand.

"Calm down now. It's all right. I won't tell anyone," he whispered awkwardly, as he let the other wizard cry against his shoulder. "You didn't fail. You survived. That's more than either Malfoy or the Dark Lord managed to do."

Snape's sobs slowly died down, but Sirius suspected that this had more to do with the fact that Snape didn't have enough strength left to weep than anything he had said.

"And for what? In the end, it's meaningless," whispered the Slytherin, sounding deathly tired, his voice still trembling and interrupted by a dry sob.

Sirius didn't quite know what to answer to that. But one thing was obvious. That he had stopped Snape's suicide attempt this time was only postponing the inevitable. Snape would try again – the Slytherin saw life only as a burden. He didn't care about life any more, cared so little that he had even let his most hated enemy into his memories. Snape considered his life finished.

Sirius pushed slightly away from Snape, still keeping both hands on the man's shoulders. "You don't know that. But Malfoy was definitely wrong about one thing – when we knew you had been exposed and we couldn't find you, Albus just about went crazy. He tried to keep up appearances for the students, but in private he could barely sleep, he was so worried about you." He forced an encouraging smile on his face. "Since I live in his quarters, I could hardly miss all the nights he spent in front of the fireplace, brooding and sighing to himself."

Snape looked at him as if he could determine the veracity of his words by staring at him intently enough.

"If you were to kill yourself now, you would break Albus' heart. He really does care about you, you know."

On Snape's face there was a mixture of guilt, surprise, and, for the first time in a long while, doubt, but then those emotions faded, to be replaced with the familiar resignation.

"Even if it's true, it doesn't really matter. Albus will forget. He won't have a choice. Too many lives are at stake. He can't just preoccupy himself with one of them. Maybe he really would grieve, for a short while, but he would get over it. I wouldn't be the first person he has buried."

"You're not just one name among many to him, Snape."

Snape again lowered his head and stared at his hands. Barely audibly, as if he were afraid to hope, he whispered, "Maybe not to him…but there is the Chosen One…"

This surprised Sirius. "I always thought that you wanted it exactly like that. That it didn't matter to you what anyone else thought. You were always above trying to ingratiate yourself to anyone else. Hell, you did everything possible to make people _avoid_ you."

Again, Snape sighed. "I know. I was quite content with that. I couldn't stand most people in the first place." He looked up. "But now I don't know if it is enough for me any more, being hated. Hatred is a kind of respect, you know. The only respect I could earn for myself. But I was barely gone, and the school threw a party. That sort of respect is worthless the minute I am gone, and the next generation of students won't remember me at all." His face contorted as if he were in pain. "Even Pettigrew in the end revolted against the Dark Lord, stood up to him. Even that abominable coward achieved something I couldn't."

Slowly, Sirius began to recognize the full extent of the problem, and it chilled him. "Peter _was_ a coward. He was simply looking for a way out, the quickest, simplest, and most painless end. You survived torture that he couldn't have withstood for even a day."

Snape made a noise that was half way between a sob and a laugh. "In the end it was I who broke, not he. He resisted. The end result is what really counts. Why should I live, tell me?"

"Your life is not over, Snape. You have many years to still make a name for yourself," Sirius said with a hint of desperation, and he realized with surprise that more than anything in the world, he wanted Snape to live. He had never in the slightest wished for that in all the time he had nursed the Slytherin, except maybe to satisfy his own pride – but never for the Slytherin's sake. But now he wanted exactly that. He wanted Severus Snape, this man who had been so horribly abused, to live. He couldn't allow Malfoy and Voldemort to finish destroying him – Snape didn't deserve that. Right now, he would have given anything for a hateful, bitter, nasty comment from the Slytherin.

Snape had pulled himself together a little bit and snorted disdainfully. "If I haven't managed to achieve anything of note in forty years, do you think another forty or eighty will make a difference? Come down from your idealistic, golden Gryffindor cloud, Black. Do you really want to know why I even agreed to take on this role, when I knew it would most likely cost me my life? Not out of maudlin sentiment, or even out of respect for the Headmaster, even if that might have played a part. No, I knew that if I died doing this, I would remain in people's memories forever. For that, I would have deceived the Darkest of wizards, run any risk. I would have dared to do what no one else would have, and people would have remembered that. I would have finally achieved something that _mattered_, if I hadn't let myself be broken." His hand clenched into a fist, and a weak gleam of hatred glittered in his eyes. "I would have gone down with pride, and at least posthumously, I would have received the Order of Merlin that was taken from me when you escaped."

Inwardly, Sirius rejoiced. There was at least a spark of life in Snape's words. Apparently, he wasn't doing as badly as he thought in his attempts to get through to the Slytherin.

Sirius let go of Snape's shoulders and with renewed self-confidence sat down more comfortably. "You still have your whole life ahead of you. There should be time to come up with some memorable deed that is worth a medal, don't you think? I'll make you a deal, Snape. You promise not to kill yourself, and I won't tell Albus about anything that happened here."

Abruptly, Snape got angry, even if Sirius had the impression that there was a hint of panic in his eyes. "You deceitful bastard! You already promised not to say anything!"

"That only counted for the memories, not the suicide attempt," Sirius said with a grin.

The outburst of anger faded, like a deflating balloon, bringing back some of the resignation and desperation. "It is _my _decision."

Sirius could have smacked himself, and his self-confidence evaporated at least as quickly as Snape's anger. The thing wasn't as easy as all that, it seemed; Snape's soul was broken, and if he took away control from Snape right now, he was no better than Malfoy.

"Of course it is," Sirius said, trying to make up for his mistake. "You can do whatever you want to. It's also your decision if you want to tell Albus about any of this, but please understand that there are people worried about you. What happened to you was horrible, but it wasn't your fault. Not any of it. There are people to whom you are very important. Don't forget that, please."

"I can't deal with it, Black. I just can't. I don't want to have the nightmares any more, or hear the screams, or remember how they defeated me."

Sirius again laid a hand on the shoulder of the man across from him. "Please try. You don't have to go through this without help. You're not alone. Albus will always have an open ear for you, and if you don't want to go to him…" He hesitated a moment. "Well, I've already seen everything, so you can come to me…"

This time Snape looked at him as if he had lost his mind, and Sirius allowed himself a small grin. The Slytherin had always been a loner, but to get over this, he would need support, and to Sirius' surprise, he even, to a certain degree, seemed ready to accept it. He didn't know if it would be possible to heal Snape's soul completely, but if he gave himself enough time, he might eventually be able to accomplish it. Some day. With a lot of help.

Snape lowered his head again and thought for a moment. "I can't promise anything," he finally admitted hesitatingly.

"All right, then." Sirius got up and held out his hand to Snape. "Come on, let's go, or Albus is going to send out a search party for us."

Snape looked reluctantly at the offered hand, but finally allowed the Animagus to grab his elbow and pull him to his feet. He swayed dangerous, but Sirius steadied him immediately. "Dizzy?"

Snape just nodded, and a short time later he was standing more steadily, even if he couldn't yet push away from the physical support Sirius offered. Sirius cleaned Snape's blood off his cloak with a spell, and fumbled around with his sleeves for a moment until they covered the bandages. "I'm no good at healing spells. I just hope that once you get home you can take care of this yourself, otherwise you'll have to resort to Poppy after all…"

Again Snape's face contorted into a resentful mask, and with an abrupt gesture he wiped the last traces of dried tears from his face with his sleeve. "I'll manage. Now let's go."

Before they headed for the exit, Sirius cast one more somber look at Snape. "From now on, I'll have an eye on you, Snape. Nobody's going to do anything like what happened at Malfoy's to you again," he swore to himself, so quietly that he wasn't sure if Snape had even heard him. If he did, he wasn't reacting at all.

Sirius smiled. Snape still was an unfriendly bastard, and they would probably never be friends, but today, for the first time, he had seen the human being inside the nasty Slytherin, and he would make sure that this person got all the help that he needed.


	67. Fudge and changes

A/N. I know they are not really welcome, yet I do need to lose some words over DH. I guess that, after a month, people who read the English translation of this fic, have read the book. Still I will not really use spoilers in my fic, since it's clearly AU now. (Hard to believe I started writing this before book five. Geez am I slow or what?) I will use Information given in the later books as far as possible without changing my fic. There won't be a professor Slughorn, for example, but Toby and Snape being a half-blood or the thing with Liliy will show up in later chapters.

I'd like to thank you all for your continuing support and the nice Reviews. Those flamers… If you don't even have the guts to leave a signed Reviev or at least leave an E-Mail Addy, then I'm sorry, but I can't take you serous.

Those nice ones that I didn't have a Replyadress; THAK YOU!!! You're all great and encouraging and help ignoring those with nothing better to do than to use teir time for flames, instead of serious critic.

I hope I have answered all the reviews I had an addy to, but after almost one year with no Update, I can't be sure anymore. So once more: THANK YOU ALL!!!

Again I think some other Thank you's are in order. First of all to Cecelle, who is so wunderfully translating the story. Go to her profile, she has two wonderful Post-DH fics for all us Snape Fans who need a bit more closure.

And second to SofiaScencia, who is immensely helping this Fic to go on.

_**Fudge and Changes:**_

Slowly but surely, the initial euphoria over Voldemort's downfall had faded. The Aurors especially had begun to expertly erect barrier charms around Malfoy and Pettigrew's corpses, and around the small pile of dust that was all that remained of the Dark Lord. A few of the Aurors and Order members had set out to search the house and secure it. The wiry female Auror had sent a few of her people back to the Ministry through the re-established Floo system and was now waiting for Fudge or one of his deputies. The captured Death Eaters lay bound in the library, watched by yet another two of the Aurors.

Even so, an almost absurd grin could still be seen on the faces of most of those present, and again and again someone would give Harry a congratulatory clap on the shoulder. Also, Ron and Hermione were constantly asking him for this or that detail of the battle. Harry, with his thoughts elsewhere and not really paying attention, had answered the questions as shortly and truthfully as he could. Only when the question had come up what Snape had done the whole time, Harry knew that he would have to lie. He would never tell anyone what he had seen today, would never use Snape's weakest moment against him.

"He was knocked unconscious by a curse right at the beginning," he said, still looking around searchingly. The Potions master was the reason he was so distracted. He, and Harry's god-father. The two seemed to have disappeared into thin air, and Harry was slowly beginning to get worried.

"So Snape was put out of commission right at the beginning of the battle," Ron said, in a tone of voice that Harry didn't like at all and that finally redirected his attention to his friend. As he had expected, Ron wasn't quite managing to keep a spiteful grin off his face. Not that he was trying overly hard.

Harry felt a strange mix of shame and anger. Ron didn't have the right to talk about Snape like that, not after what they had done to him with the letter. Even so, he could neither tell the truth, nor could he bring himself to lie to the others and tell them that Snape had thrown himself in the path of a curse on his behalf. The lie wouldn't have hurt him, and in a sense Snape_ had_ put himself in harms way for all of them, but even as the words were trying to get past his lips, he heard a voice in his head that sounded remarkably like Snape – "I don't need your blasted Gryffindor sense of honor, Potter. I'm not dependent on your charity."

No matter what Harry told his friends about Snape's role in the final battle, it would go through Hogwarts' rumor mill at the speed of lightning, and Snape would hear about it sooner or later. To show him false 'generosity' would be just another strike against him, and it would just seems to him as if Harry was intentionally rubbing his nose in his failure.

"I'd like to see how _you _would react if someone waited for youwith a curse behind the barrier at King's Cross," Harry said heatedly. "I'd like to see _you _try and get away."

His defensive tone of voice finally seemed to get through to Ron that after all that had happened during the last months, Harry wasn't in the least interested in putting down Snape any more. Apparently Ron hadn't intended to do so either, maybe it had just been thoughtlessness or sheer force of habit, since he turned red immediately and lowered his eyes when he got nasty looks from Harry and Hermione both. "Sorry, mates. I didn't mean it."

"Where exactly is Professor Snape?" Hermione asked after a glance around the room, and with that redirected Harry to his previous thoughts.

"No idea. And Sirius seems to have disappeared, too…"

"Remus is over there," said Ron, and pointed to a corner of the room. "Maybe he'll know something?"

Remus sat on a wooden stool, away from all the small groups of people. He looked even more worn out than usual, but still appeared quite happy.

"Hey, Remus," Harry greeted him as he got closer.

The werewolf gave them a friendly smile. "Well, you three?"

Harry pointed to the white bandage and the sling around Lupin's arm. "Is everything all right? I was watching when the curse…"

"Don't worry," Remus cut him short. "It's just a flesh wound. I lost a bit of blood, but I'll be like new again in no time at all. Professor McGonagall got the worst part of the bargain out of all of us, but even she'll be out of St. Mungo's in just a few days, I'm certain."

Harry nodded. Dumbledore had already told him that they had had no fatalities on their side. Harry never would have dreamed of that outcome. And it had only happened because they had combined Muggle technology with Magic. It was borderline ironic that they had been able to so resoundingly defeat the Muggle-hater Voldemort that way.

"We're looking for Sirius and Professor Snape."

"Sirius went off looking for Snape. I suspect all this commotion just got to be a bit much for him," said the werewolf. "I expect they'll be back soon." When he saw the doubtful expression in the teenagers' eyes, his smile widened. "Don't worry. The two spent weeks in the same cottage without ripping each other to bits. They aren't going to start now."

But Harry was worried about Snape. The others couldn't know what had happened here, of course, but he had seen everything, and he knew that Snape's mental condition had to be everything _but_ all right at the moment. He just hoped that Sirius had found him quickly, and that his god-father for once would manage to show a hint of sensitivity towards the Slytherin.

"I'm going after them," he said with determination.

"Why?" asked Ron, and even Hermione looked at him with a wrinkled forehead. "Like Remus said. They won't kill each other."

Harry was trying desperately to come up with a plausible reason. Snape hadn't been injured physically during the battle, and up to now he had never bothered much with thinking about Snape's psychological well-being. Neither had anyone else, he thought bitterly. Why should a nasty, mean, and cold man like Snape have any feelings that went beyond hate and pride, after all?

He was going off on a tangent again, he noticed with displeasure. And he still owed them an answer. To his great relief, his friends' attention was at that moment distracted by a bunch of people pushing into the room.

Fudge, who was heading a small group of Ministry employees, seemed more than upset.

"Reuth! What is all this supposed to mean? Why am I being disrupted in the middle of a meeting by people babbling on and on about You-Know-Who being defeated?"

The Auror took a step out of the corner where she had been talking to Dumbledore.

"How very nice to see you, Cornelius," the headmaster said with a twinkle in his eyes.

"Headmaster? What in the name of Merlin are you doing here?"

"What Waters reported is quite correct," Reuth interrupted him, taking a few more steps toward him. "A few of the top people from the Auror Corps along with some others under Dumbledore's leadership planned and executed a strike against You-Know-Who."

"Wh-what? H-how?" stuttered Fudge.

"Voldemort is dead," Dumbledore said gently. "This time for good."

Reuth nodded in confirmation. "Exactly. Like Pettigrew and Malfoy."

Fudge looked truly shaken. "Woman, what are you talking about? Peter Pettigrew's been dead for years, and _Malfoy_? Don't tell me you involved _him_ in this affair. He hasn't got injured in the attack on his house, has he?"

The Auror just snorted and pointed her arm in the approximate direction where Pettigrew's body lay hidden from view by some of the people standing around. "Until recently, Pettigrew was very much alive and a true Death Eater. And as far as Malfoy is concerned – he got what was coming to him."

She directed the Minister's eyes to Malfoy's corpse by walking towards it. Roughly, she grabbed the dead man's arm and forced up the sleeve. "The Dark Mark, you see?"

Harry had already watched earlier when the Aurors had examined Pettigrew's arm, and had been shaken by the matter-of-fact way in which they were handling the dead bodies, even if they were only Death Eaters. Yet he had noticed that, against everyone's expectations, the Dark Mark had not disappeared from the arms of Voldemort's servants upon his death.

He lowered his eyes, even though the rough treatment of Malfoy's corpse didn't bother him as much as that of Pettigrew's. Yet it had been Pettigrew who had betrayed his parents. Even so, the rat Animagus had been nothing more than a miserable coward, but Malfoy was evil through and through, as Harry had experienced on more than one occasion, but especially today.

He heard Fudge's choking intake of breath, followed by his nearly hysterical voice. "Malfoy has proven that he received his Mark under an Imperius."

"He didn't prove anything," Dumbledore's voice answered, and Harry look back up to watch the confrontation between the two. "There was no other evidence than his own word. Now that Voldemort and Lucius are dead, I am certain that some other Death Eaters – some of whom you will find tied up and under guard in the library – will come forward and confirm that he was a faithful follower of Voldemort."

"And if that's not enough," they heard Shacklebolt's deep voice say, "then a good look around this room will do it. There are several books that border on Dark magic and are illegal. And they are not even hidden. Arrogant Malfoy. If we check the manor for curses and hidden rooms, I am certain we will find plenty of material to condemn him."

"Apart from that, you have the testimony of Severus Snape. He will be an important witness, since he has spied for us for a long time," said Dumbledore, peering intently over the rim of his glasses at the Minister of Magic.

Fudge's face slowly changed from a shocked white to an angry red. "Severus Snape? Did you say Severus Snape? The man is a criminal, and as soon as we get a hold of him, _he'll _need some people to testify – for himself, whatever may come of that."

"Not exactly true, my dear Cornelius. I said it once, and I'll say it again: Severus Snape is no more a Death Eater than I am. When Severus cast the Unforgivable, he did it on my orders."

Fudge's mouth dropped open, and he stared at Dumbledore aghast. "You ordered him to kill a human being? With an Unforgivable? Do you know what that means?"

Dumbledore didn't appear at all perturbed. "Our plan was to make him gain Voldemort's full confidence, and that was only possible if we outwardly destroyed his ties to the side of light. We needed him close to Voldemort. So we staged a pretend murder. Severus never really did use the Unforgivable back in the Great Hall."

"But then…you also knew that Sirius was at Hogwarts?"

Dumbledore nodded calmly. "Yes, and just like Severus, Sirius is also innocent, as Peter Pettigrew's corpse should adequately prove."

"Pettigrew? Why is everybody talking about Pettigrew?"

At a wave of Dumbledore's hand, the Order members stepped back, creating a gap that afforded the Minister an unobstructed view of Pettigrew's body.

Before the Minister could recover from his obvious, renewed shock, the back door opened, and Snape, followed by Sirius, entered the room. Both came closer, then stopped next to Dumbledore, about two yards away from Fudge.

For a fraction of a second, it was deathly quiet in the room. It seemed to Harry as if it took a long moment until Fudge's brain was able to process what his eyes were seeing. But a second later, Fudge turned a chalky white, shouting, "Aurors! Arrest the two! IMMEDIATELY!"

Then something happened that Harry would have though impossible: Black moved defensively shoulder to shoulder with Snape, and stared at Fudge challengingly. "I always knew that politicians weren't the brightest candles in the chandelier, but for what, exactly, did you want to arrest us?"

Fudge looked around nervously. When he saw that of all those present none were enthusiastic or even willing to protect him from insane, escaped criminals, he attempted to pull himself up to his full height (which significantly fell short of Snape's or Sirius' ) with considerable bluster. It was only when he saw the Aurors looked doubtfully at Pettigrew instead of following his orders that he apparently realized that he had no good reason to arrest the two. Which didn't mean that he intended to give up without a fight. Demonstratively, he turned to Dumbledore, pointing an accusing thumb in Sirius' direction. "Even if he isn't guilty of Pettigrew's murder, we have to at least question him about the murdered Muggles. And Snape, in front of the entire school…"

He shut his mouth abruptly as he realized what he had been about to say.

"I'm feeling pretty good for someone who has been murdered in front of the entire school," Sirius said facetiously.

Fudge's face was slowly assuming the color of an over-ripe plum, as he got angrier and angrier. "But…that doesn't change that he spoke an Unforgivable! Or that you both escaped from prison!"

Now Dumbledore took charge and with two long steps moved in front of Snape and Sirius. "Ever single one of us has spoken an Unforgivable, Cornelius. That isn't at all the same thing as actually casting one. Since Sirius Black was quite obviously not killed by Severus Snape, you have no reason arrest him. And I believe that the presence of Pettigrew's corpse proves Sirius' story, as well."

But Fudge, who saw his hopes rapidly sailing away, still wasn't giving up. "But Snape deceived the Ministry, deceived the law. He'll have to stand trial for that."

Now Dumbledore, who was slowly beginning to lose is calm, took a step towards Fudge, who unconsciously took a step back. "First of all, my dear Cornelius, the only purpose for his deception was to bring down the Darkest, most dangerous wizard of our time. And secondly, you would then have to arrest me as well, as it was I along with Mr. Lupin and Professor McGonagall who had the idea in the first place, both of which have been injured in the selfless fight for the freedom of Wizarding society. As has Professor Snape, who by taking on this mission risked everything. I wonder how much sympathy the voting public would have if you were to proceed with this action against us? And now, with your permission, I would like to take the children back to the school. Should you have other questions for Mr. Black, you will for the near future be able to find him at Hogwarts, where he, and of course _Professor_ Snape, will be in residence until the uproar dies down and the news of their innocence has spread."

Fudge looked like he was about to explode, but he didn't dare contradict Dumbledore. "Very well then. Snape, Black, you are herewith free to go where you please. But you are ordered to hold yourself at the Ministry's disposal for further questioning, and you are required to keep us informed of your whereabouts. The case especially against Mr. Black will not be dropped until an official interrogation, under Veritaserum if need be, has been completed."

In a last attempt to preserve his dignity, he whirled around and strutted from the room, followed by his entourage.

Only when Fudge had disappeared and the silent in the room had continued for a minute did Harry realize what had just happened. He looked at his broadly grinning god-father.

Sirius was free. He wasn't a wanted criminal any more and no longer on the run.

Before Harry could even react, Dumbledore beat him to it and pulled Sirius into a firm embrace.

Sirius laughed. "I AM FREE!"

Dumbledore was grinning like crazy as well and let go of the younger wizard. That was Harry's cue and he jumped forward as well and following suit, for the second time that day wrapping his arms around his god-father, who reciprocated immediately. "Finally no more hiding, Harry."

Harry was so happy he could have cried, and he barely paid attention to the other Order members who now drew closer and proudly clapped Sirius on the shoulders.

But then he felt his god-father stiffen almost unnoticeably. He extricated himself from the embrace and looked up into his face. Apparently no one else seemed to be aware, but Sirius' smile had disappeared, and his eyes hung on Albus Dumbledore, who now stood about a yard away from Snape. The headmaster seemed to fight an inner urge as he gazed at the Potions master, whose face had barely shown any expression at all since he had entered the room. But then he took a step towards Snape and embraced him as well, even more tightly than he had hugged Sirius, and at the same time seemed to whisper something into his ear. Snape flinched visibly and didn't return the embrace, but a moment later he closed his eyes and relaxed again.

When Harry looked back up at Sirius, he found a relieved smile on his face.


	68. The honoring ceremony

GASP? An Update?? What the.. The world must come to an end… *grin* No, seriously. I'm terribly sorry for the wait. I know, it's no excuse, but stay assured that this fic will be finished, no matter what. Even if it takes me years… But wait, it already has…* sigh*

I don't even dare to individually respond to all those wonderful reviews I have rceived since my last installment. You wouldn't remember anyway, I guess:-P

Since it's been so long, I have a summary at the beginning of this chapter of the story so far. If you don't want to read it, just skip the italics part.

I'd like to send my heartfelt thanks for all those reading this fic and their patience and virtual a**- kicks in form of flattering reiews. Each one I got warmed my heart but also fed my guilt. The updates should be a bit faster now (Don't I say that every time?)

But now, end with the groveling, on with the story.

_The road so far:_

_Snape casts Avada Kedavra on Sirius in the Great Hall at Hogwarts, and is sentenced to life in Azkaban. He escapes and Harry sees him serving Voldemort and murdering innocent people. Harry is very upset about Sirius and angry at Snape, so he sends a letter to Snape, pretending to be Dumbledore. The letter reveals Snape as a traitor and his throat is slit. This is seen by Harry, who is distraught and reveals what he did to Dumbledore. It is then revealed that Sirius's murder was faked and the whole fiasco only happened to get Snape back in the inner circle. While everyone at Hogwarts is battling with their guilt, Snape is alive and being tortured by Malfoy until he submits and calls Voldemort his master. _

_Two weeks later, Dumbledore receives a letter from Voldemort telling him where to find Snape, and that Snape has been overloaded with magic and any more magic cast near him will kill him. Sirius rescues Snape, because the staff of Hogwarts is at an Auror meeting (to protect Hogwarts from Snape). Harry sneaks along, and together they rescue Snape. Snape is very badly injured, and is taken back to Remus Lupin's house, where there is very little residual magic, and Madam Pomfrey heals him using muggle methods. _

_When he is recovered enough, Snape accompanies the others, including Harry, in an attack on Malfoy manor, where Voldemort and Malfoy are supposed to be. Harry is told about the prophecy last minute, but only the general meaning – that he needs to kill Voldemort. During the battle, Harry and Snape end up in the same room as Voldemort, Malfoy and Pettigrew. Snape is unable to go against the will of the Malfoy and Voldemort, but Harry manages to kill Voldemort, after he has killed Pettigrew for trying to save Harry. Malfoy is taken out by Dobby with a frying pan to the back of the head._

_But not everything is fine. Sirius discovers Snape in Malfoy's laboratory with his wrists cut open and an unopened bottle of poison next to him. After healing him, Sirius persuades Snape to show him some memories, but Snape loses control and shows Sirius everything that happened to him. Sirius then comforts Snape and there is level of respect between the two men. Upon everyone's return to Hogwarts it is revealed that Snape and Sirius are innocent and are pardoned by Fudge, pending a trial for Sirius. _

The best regards and thanks to Kittyluv and Floss bucket, my wonderful Betas.

**Chapter 68**

_The honoring ceremony_

Sirius amusedly observed his godson who sat in one of the front rows, fidgeting uncomfortably, his face an interesting shade of crimson. The boy was looking everywhere but Fudge whose voice rolled over them all as he made a show of listing up all of Harry's heroics against the Dark Lord in a very overbearing, flattering (a more cynical man would call it bootlicking) and detailed way, beginning with the situation where the boy banished said dark wizard as a baby, every incident at school and last but – here the boy sighed out outright – not the least the final confrontation and his victory over Voldemort.

The Boy Who Lived 'Again' was sandwiched by his two best friends, both sporting wide and proud grins. A handful of reporters sat at the back of the wooden podium in the middle of the Quidditch field, where Fudge held his colourful speech behind a high, narrow desk, flanked by some of the ministry's finest, all sitting straight backed in simple chairs.

The colours of their best (Sirius had to swallow a snort at that thought) and most ridiculous coloured festive robes, shone in bright eye-burning-red, puke-green, snot-yellow and stripes of thick and thin.

Reporters, sitting in the very back of the podium, looked the most enthusiastic of them all, eager to not miss one single word while their quills scribbled furiously at the parchment they held. Photographers were swarming all around the podium and spectators like flies around animal dump and the bright flashes here and there threatened to give Sirius a fully fledged headache.

"And now he's the hero again and of course Fudge has known it all along," whispered Remus to his right with bitter amusement. "That man is impossible."

Sirius grunted his affirmative.

After Fudge finally finished his praise of Harry Potter, and the applause on the stuffed Quidditch stadium quieted, the minister continued his speech, but now moved over to the founder of the Order of the Phoenix and conqueror of Grindelwald. Sirius groaned. He hadn't imagined the ceremony to be _this_ boring. If Fudge was about to go to the same lengths for every fricking member of the order and anyone assisting the downfall of the Dark lord, they'd be here tomorrow.

Snape hadn't shown up, despite Sirius' threats, and deep inside Sirius envied the Slytherin. Why couldn't he have had the foresight to stay away too? If only he had known how sedating this whole thing would become... He stifled a yawn.

"That's politics, dear Padfoot. Fudge wants to embellish everything right and bright. There are enough foreign ambassadors and VIP's here that can help him with his next election. But look at his face. He looks as if he is biting lemons. He's not doing it out of conviction, on the contrary," said Remus, who seemed to have guessed his thoughts.

Sirius sighed. Remus was right. The forced smile on the minister's face was as stiff as his wand and even though his mouth spilled all those praising words about Dumbledore, his eyes shot poisonous daggers at the headmaster sitting in the front row.

Thankfully, Sirius soon found out that Fudge in fact didn't have the intention to tell the life story of everyone involved, only doing so with Harry and Dumbledore.

After that, the ministry's chief historian, Salomon Seber, stepped up, taking the minister's place and recounted all the important details of the final fight with theatrical sounding words, which made Harry only blush more, while every pair of eyes in the rows seemed directed at him, whenever his name was mentioned.

Sirius almost took pity on the boy. Almost. Firstly, in Sirius' eyes his Godson deserved all the praise he got, and secondly, it was much too easy to imagine James' face in his son's and he would never have let his best friend live all of this down afterwards.

He was pulled from his half amused, half nostalgic musings, when he heard the name Severus Snape mentioned, as the historian told everybody that the former death eater had tried, while 'in danger', to weaken the dark lord with a poison, in which he didn't succeed, however. But that shouldn't pose a problem in the end anyway, since the Boy Who Lived managed very well without it.

Anger, red and hot rose in Sirius. They made it sound as if Snape had accomplished nothing at all. The fact that he nearly died wasn't even mentioned, let alone the torture.

Now, Sirius was glad that Snape hadn't come and didn't have to see this. After what he witnessed in Snape's memory, he knew how devastating this here would be for him. As long as he was getting that Order...

He hoped that Snape hadn't been right on that point. Sirius recognized the first signs of doubt in his mind.

The whole ceremony took over an hour, until the less involved were handed down a written award, and the names of the more directly involved were read to receive the order of Merlin, second class.

He himself was one of the last of those to be called forth after Fudge told everyone assembled the tragic tale of the innocent man who Voldemoert's terror brought behind Azkaban's bars for twelve years.

If he was honest, Sirius was proud of how he managed to take the award from the minister's hand with only a glare, swallowing the impulse to actually choke the man. This bastard couldn't even utter an apology. Give the dog a cookie and he's quiet. Yes, right!

When he returned to his seat, fury making his movement stiff and edgy, he felt Lupin's hand pat his arm twice in a sympathetic gesture. He sucked in a deep, calming breath, readying himself to watch the lycan or Snape get the medal. But then, Albus Dumbledore was called forth to receive the order of Merlin, first class. Sirius looked at Lupin in confusion. His friend smiled at him with gentle eyes and a cold shiver ran up Sirius' spine. That smile Remus directed at him was the same patient, slightly sad and accepting smile he always wore whenever he was discriminated because of his condition.

Dumbledore too, hesitated for a moment, as if he'd guess something bad was about to happen. But the ceremony wasn't over yet, and just like Sirius was clinging to this hope, Dumbledore seemed to as well and, with dark eyes, finally stepped up onto to the podium to receive his award

After him it was Harry's turn and then the whole thing was over. Fudge stepped down from the platform and some of the officials collected their parchments. The spectators slowly trickled from the stages and the reporters filed after some guests of honor, shooting pictures and trying to get their attention for an interview.

Severus Snape and Remus Lupin had, except a short mention at the reading received no reward or even the slightest acknowledgement.

sssssssssssssssssssss

Albus Dumbledore wasn't someone who liked to brag with his strength and he dared to believe to be a righteous, tolerant man.

He had always believed in the good in Cornelius Fudge, despite the man's less favorable qualities, but the minister's newest stunt put his ability to reign in his temper to the test. As far back as he could remember, Albus had always judged people by their actions, not their status. And this time, the Minister had gone too far.

He elbowed his way through the crowd, which lingered in small, happily chattering groups on the Quidditch field.

He ignored some friendly invitations to join them and hurried, as fast as the blocking bodies and shoulder clapping hands allowed, towards the only exit, which he had seen Fudge disappear through. The man hadn't wasted a minute to linger, after everyone's awards had been presented.

Albus only caught up to him on the field outside the arena, where so far, only few people and no reporter had moved.

"Cornelius!" he called after the other man.

The minister's steps grew faster but he did hold back from actually running off.

That's why Albus managed to reach him, long before Fudge arrived to where the carriages were waiting, stopping him in an ordering tone, which not even the minister could ignore.

"Cornelius. I need to speak to you!"

Begrudgingly, the man in question turned around and faced Albus nervously.

"What else do you want from me? Haven't you embarrassed me enough, Albus?"

Albus felt his anger rise. "It isn't my fault that you refused to believe in Voldemort's return but what you just did in this so called honoring ceremony is despicable."

"I have no idea what you are talking about," Fudge answered smugly and went to walk away once more.

"I am talking about the fact that you _forgot_ Remus Lupin and Severus Snape."

The minister turned back and smirked arrogantly at Albus. "Oh, I didn't forget them, headmaster. I left them out on purpose."

This had been clear to Albus before, of course. Same with the reason behind it.

"And I dare guess why too. Do you not think that those two did enough to warrant not being discriminated against anymore?" he said, doing his best to keep up his outward calm.

"You know that werewolves don't have many rights according to law – a law, by the way, I didn't create. Lupin's role was mentioned and he's much better off now than he was before. He has earned much more by his choice to fight for the right side, than any medal could give him. What he does with that is up to him. Since he's surely used to having difficulties, getting a well paid job, he will certainly see it that way too. He'll probably thank us for mentioning him at all."

"Oh yes? If you think yourself to be so generous, then what happened with Professor Snape? His reputation wasn't tainted much, since not many knew of his past before, above what rumors said. Since you so willingly kept the information of his risks and willingness to sacrifice everything for us hidden, showing that he is above any doubt by giving him an Order of Merlin would be an excellent way to repay that. Severus has risked his life for us – almost lost it, and you spit it back into his face with contempt."

Fudge narrowed his eyes and scoffed snidely. "Don't expect any compassion for Snape from me. He's a Slytherin. Nothing good ever comes from the likes of them. He's probably only realized that the Dark side was about to lose, washing his hand for the winners to see."

Albus outward calm was gone and he wasn't trying to keep pretences at this point anyway. He stared down at the minister with an icy stare. "You do not know Severus. He agreed to this mission without hesitation, even though he knew that there was a very low chance of survival."

Fudge sneered in disgust. "Political calculation, all of it, I say. Better to die a fast hero's death than to be put into Azkaban by the winners. You know yourself, how many witches and wizards prefer death over Azkaban, once they see no way out. Slyhterins betray everybody and only care about their own well being. Malfoy has done that for years."

Dumbledore stiffened. "Then Severus has to pay for what Malfoy did?"

"Wrong," Fudge said. "Snape is a Slytherin and I've learned to be careful about the Slytherins' motivation. For years I've been ready to ignore the house in which somebody was sorted but I was taught better. Slytherins are unscrupulous and should be held at arm's length at all times. That's exactly how they want it, by the way. Slytherins are self-sufficient and think themselves to be above 'normal' people. Or why has your beloved Snape not deigned to appear at the ceremony. Doesn't look like the acts of a man who really wants an award, if you ask me."

Dumbledore lost his voice for a moment but he caught himself quickly. "Successful people almost always build their success on the backs of others. As soon as those people forget that, however, they are not worthy of that success anymore. Remus Lupin, Severus Snape and Sirius Black too deserve your apology. To always blame one's own faults on others might be easy enough, but to reach true power also means to accept one's mistakes and learn from them."

Fudge lost the battle over his own calm at those words and his face took on an unhealthy red tone, while a vein on his forehead bulged slightly. "You watch out, Dumbledore. I've let you get away with your deceit, refrained from forming charges against you for oblivating ministry workers. You should be grateful as it is." With those words and a huff, he swirled around and marched away rigidly.

"I've been wrong," Albus said firmly. "Severus is not paying for Malfoy's actions. He's paying for mine."

Fudge paused and hesitated for a moment, before he stiffened and walked away briskly.

**********

TBC


	69. Trust and friendship

The best regards and thanks to Kittyluv and Floss bucket, my wonderful Betas.

********************

**Chapter 69**

_Trust and friendship_

Severus observed the flames in the fireplace through the bourbon behind the glass in his hand. The golden liquid distorted the flames out of their natural shape, morphing them into hideous monsters, out of control. Making the flames look like help-seeking arms of something drowning, trying futilely to escape from what there was no escaping.

No escape. Never. Which turned out to be his fate just as much.

That fact, so solid and unchangeable held his heart in an iron grip, pressing all life out of it. For an instant, the fire in the fireplace seemed to reach out to him, robbing him of his breath. Severus' heart began to race and frustration, so strong he could almost taste it, took hold of him. With a furious howl he jumped off his chair and smashed the glass, including its content, at the fireplace.

But to observe the glass shatter into a thousand crystalline shards and the sticky liquor running sluggishly down the stone didn't bring any relief. He had to get away. He had to do something. Anything.

He had paced the room for at least two minutes before he even became aware of what he was doing. Severus stood stock still and forced a couple of deep breaths into his body. But the inner anxiousness, this urge to do _something_, didn't lessen. Something was trapped in his chest, like a beast wanting to break out of its cage through blind fury alone, a futile task. He couldn't get rid of this thing, which robbed him of his sleep and made it impossible to not fall into the past at any given moment.

There was no escape...

With a frustrated sob he sank to the floor. The thick carpet under his body was soft and fluffy but Severus felt as if the cold of the walls around him was reaching him unhindered, taking root deep in his bones.

Severus buried his face in his hands. He felt cold and so very weary. He thought he could sleep away the rest of his life and it still wouldn't be enough to chase away the tiredness. But sleep, even for an hour, was impossible, at least without a strong sleeping potion. The anxiety didn't let him. As soon as he lay down, trying to relax and leave it behind, the memories had free reign to smother him.

Was that it? Would that be all the rest of his life held for him?

Lowering his hands, Severus' gaze lingered on his fingers, which clawed at the long fibers of the carpet, hidden under the black leather of the gloves which only seemed to mock him now. He sat back, lifting his hands in front of his face. With an angry cry he ripped the gloves from his fingers and stared coldly at the rippled scars on his palm. Useless claws. That was all they still were. Ugly, and nothing but insult, calling forth the demons of his memories. Poppy had told him that the feeling would come back eventually but the scars would never fade. They would remain, prove of his failure. They or the gloves he wore because of them. No matter what he ever tried to hide them with, the camouflage was more obvious than the scars themselves.

If only Black hadn't found him. Sure, suicide was the coward's way out and was fitting for an overly emotional Hufflepuff or Gryffindor, who couldn't even kick the bucket without some pathetic and dramatic departure, but him? Only one year ago he'd only sneered in disgust, whenever he read about it or one of the other teachers spoke about an endangered student from their house. It has never been a topic in his house. Slytherins didn't kill themselves, no matter what happened to them. They found the easiest way to get through it and stored the happenings deep in their hearts, ready to strike back somehow, sometime.

He had been exactly like this. Even his difficult childhood hadn't managed to take his pride.

Until Voldemort.

Until Malfoy.

No, he didn't plan on a glorious demise and if he was overly emotional.... But wasn't that the problem exactly? He wanted peace. The anxiety, the shame, which stung his heart at every thought, making room only for apathy and depression and leaving a bad taste in his mouth, was impossible to handle. They were driving him insane, slowly but surely.

But he couldn't and wouldn't let that happen. Severus directed his gaze back towards the fire, letting it rest upon the stone mantle, where the wooden box still lay, holding his temporary wand. It was far from perfect and Albus had told him yesterday that he would accompany him to Ollivander's soon to get a new one. Severus didn't want to admit it but he had liked his old wand. It had been his first, bought by his parents, and if that didn't remind him of a happy family life, then at least of what it could have been.

Many things could have been, but nothing was.

He could have had a better home, without the constant pressure and worries about so mundane, everyday things, which made the relationships in the Snape household difficult as there was no energy left to spare for them. He could have been sorted into a different House at Hogwarts, had he only wished hard enough. Of course he cared about Slytherin. It was his House, his home and more his family than the people once living in Spinners End, but his life might have been easier in another house. No hiding his background, no having to prove himself over and over again. The possibility of true friends. And mostly, not such a strong influence to join Voldemort. With a bitter sneer he reminded himself that Albus would argue that then, without his activity as a spy, many people who had lived would have been killed. But the fact was that many people had died because of him too, like Lily. Not that that was of any importance anymore.

Not even that.

That time had passed and all that remained was dream that he might not have been tortured. He would still have his pride. And peace, which he had never had in this life and now could never have. So much he could have done differently, had he only chosen a better time to kill himself… Black wouldn't have found him, wouldn't have stopped him.

But what was hindering him to choose a better moment now? Black couldn't show up on time _every time_.

Black. A low, humourless chuckle built in Severus' throat. His arch-enemy since well… forever. Worse than Potter. And now? Oh the irony. The hate was gone. His laughter died an abrupt death. No, no hate. His arch-enemy had somehow become his only friend. The only friend, at least, who didn't expect anything from him. Which meant his only _true_ friend. Black didn't want him to kill himself and with astonishment, Severus realized that it wasn't because it would spoil all his work to nurse him back to health. Even if he'd surely claim that to be the reason. But after Azkaban, the Dementors and the fact to have been left by all his friends, Black would probably be the only one who could understand his decision to some extent.

The thought, only fleeting at first, was looking more and more like a salvation. But even Black's friendship – to think of them as friends was still hard to grasp –was not enough to want to live anymore. His soul was dead already, so what meaning held the body?

He pushed to his feet, let himself slump into his armchair, staring at the flames again. The prospect of quiet and peace was alluring. Very alluring. Now, all he had to figure out was the when and how.

He didn't want a great fuss. All that mattered to him was the result, not some pompous exit. His fingers were already sensible and strong enough to hold a wand. The knife was out of the question. Too messy. The thought of the house elves, scrubbing his blood off the dungeon floor only filled him with disgust. In Malfoy's laboratory it had been the only possible way and he hadn't counted on anyone ever finding him. The cleanest method would be to apparate into one of the thick walls. Gone, disappeared... only his personal belongings left to clean out. His gaze wandered over to the fireplace again. With the unaccustomed wand he would have a hard time to pinpoint his position exactly enough. With bitterness he realized that not even the imagination of his students, coming into their schoolroom in the morning to discover the leg or arm of a corpse hanging out a wall, could fill him with satisfied glee anymore.

And then the elves.... No, he didn't need that image, really. Again, he realized with delay that he had gotten off his chair and was pacing once more. But instead of stopping, his feet took him to his storage room. He paused in front of it. Most of his ingredients and finished potions stood in the room beside his classroom but before, when he still was a professor, he had always locked up the most potent poisons. Were they still there or had someone thought about removing them? They were used only for the most complex potions and he didn't even allow all his seventh year students to work with them. Poisons were usually only generated by slip-ups or inaptitude in his class.

A Potions Master poisoning himself. There was hardly anything more cliché. But, like he thought before, the result was all that mattered and it would be clean, fast and relatively painless.

All the others would still be at the festivities right now.

Sirius had been standing in front of the gargoyle at the entrance to Albus' office for minutes and was no closer in deciding what to do. He was caught between a rock and a hard place. Snape had been absolutely right. Everybody had been honored in the ceremony. Everybody but the werewolf and the former Death Eater who had gotten naught but a fleeting mention. With Remus it wasn't such a big problem, even if it was a stinking injustice. His gentle friend was not someone who cherished standing in the spotlight and for the fact that his role in the final fight was now widely known, he wouldn't have trouble finding work anymore. That would be godsend enough for him. He could finally hope to lead a near normal life. Even if it was still a long way for all the prejudice about werewolves to disappear; Remus as an individual was famous enough now, so that no one would dare to not hire him because of a condition that could easily be held under control. In fact, Remus had already been approached by the ministry to head the new department for registration, control and consulting for werewolves. With the possibilities the relatively new Wolfsbane potion opened up, chances were high that the public cut and dried opinion concerning werewolves might change in the years and generations to come.

Remus liked the challenge, and even knowing that it would be a long and possibly futile effort, the prospect to do something for his kin was tempting and he was seriously considering accepting.

With Snape, things looked more dire. Even if he apparently _had _expected the whole thing, Sirius knew how important the public recognition would have been for the Slytherin. His shattered soul would hardly have mended with it but it might have given him back a bit of his self-worth had he received the order. Now, all of Sirius' sweet talk from before in Malfoy's cellar was nothing more than hot air. There was nothing which still justified Snape's torture. Nothing which would make it easier to accept what happened. With the fact that he had been officially ignored by the side he gave everything for, he had lost once more.

Sirius had seen Snape cowering in tears in front of Voldemort on a leash and just like that picture had then forever changed his view of Snape into a human being, it now made Sirius just as mad about the ministry's arrogance. Snape needed that recognition. Words wouldn't be enough. He had to have proof from others that he had done right and hadn't failed, even though he hadn't been able to pull through with the original plan. But instead they only managed to prove to him again of how worthless he was. They were repeating what Voldemort and Malfoy had done.

And that was exactly where Sirius' problem lay. He would never have described his feelings towards Snape as even remotely friendly but since he had seen what had happened to the man during his two week long captivity, thwarted the man's suicide attempt and taken a stroll through Snape's most personal memories, he felt responsible for the Slytherin. Unfortunately, the only person perhaps able to do something about the order, even if his chances were passable at best, was Albus Dumbledore. Which, again meant that Sirius had to tell the ancient wizard about what he knew of Snape's captivity. Unfortunately he promised the potions master to not tell anyone and breaking that trust would undoubtedly push Snape over the edge and break him for good and they would lose the Slytherin this time around. But if he left it as it was right now, there was no way in hell that Snape could accept what happened and work through it. It was risky one way or the other. Snape was a walking time bomb and the question wasn't if it would go off, but when. He would break sooner or later and take his own life.

With a sigh, Sirius decided, spoke the password "Lemon sorbet", and stepped onto the stairs as soon as the gargoyle leapt aside.

To his surprise he found the door open a fraction and after a short hesitation, stepped into the room.

Sirius hadn't been in the round office since before Voldemort's fall, when he had lived behind there for several months in some hidden rooms, but time seemed to have forgotten to pass here. Nothing reminded him of the fact that they had rid the wizarding world of one of its most menacing threats. Here, in this room, full of clicking, moving and mostly complete useless looking hotchpotch, the Portraits with the mostly sleeping, or pretending to sleep, former headmasters and the phoenix, who seemed to welcome every visitor with a welcoming, soft chirping, one never really felt in any danger. Here was Dumbledore's realm and his protective aura was palpable in every corner and in every apparent piece of junk.

He stepped up to the bird and the animal instantly begun to pick playfully at his hair. "Leave that alone, Fawkes," Sirius grinned with very little insistence.

"He must have missed you, my lad."

Sirius jerked around. How he hated it when the headmaster sneaked up on him. "Headmaster," he acknowledged with a nod, not letting the old man see that he had startled him.

"But, Sirius. Don't be so stiff," Dumbledore answered with a wink.

Sirius swallowed an annoyed sigh. Sometimes, he really questioned the old wizard's sense of seriousness.

He lost that thought with a shake of his head. "I must speak with you, Albus."

"Which I had figured, seeing as you are here. But take a seat, why don't you? Lemon drop?"

Sirius grimaced and declined by lifting his hand, while he sat down in front of Dumbledore's desk. His need for sweets had been fully satisfied in the months he had lived here.

He waited until Dumbledore simply sat down at the edge of his desk, ignoring the chair behind it, and looked at him expectantly over the rim of his glasses.

Sirius cleared his throat and bit his lower lip in a last bout of uncertainty. He might not have always been the best of persons towards others but he'd always taken keeping a secret very seriously. So it wasn't easy for him to tell what he was about to tell. "You must do something to get Snape that Order of Merlin," he rushed at last, before he could hesitate any more.

The headmaster's bushy eyebrows rose in amusement. "You mean _Remus_ shall get the order, don't you?"

Sirius shook his head minutely. "No, Remus doesn't care that he hasn't gotten the order but then again, if you could do something about that too…" He forced himself to stay with the topic. It wasn't getting any easier anyhow. "Snape will kill himself." So, now it was out. Sirius took a deep breath, while waiting for the headmaster's reaction. The old wizard looked astonished and even a bit confused.

"And what gives you that idea, Sirius?"

Another deep breath. "Because he tried before."

This time, the headmaster paled visibly and he let himself glide off his desk, "It was right after the death of Voldemort, Peter and Malfoy. He disappeared into a laboratory in Malfoy's manor. I followed him and found him with slit wrists. The only reason why he is still alive, is because he couldn't open the poison bottle with his hands."

The headmaster paled even more, upon hearing that. He turned around and walked over to the great window, looking out, turning his back to the animagus, but Sirius saw a small tremor getting hold of the old man's hands. "That can't be... You must have gotten it wrong somehow." His posture stiffened at last and he faced Sirius again, every trace of mirth gone from his eyes. "That can't be. Severus isn't the type to kill himself. You have no idea of his past. He was mistreated one way or the other almost his entire life, even though he had never received any physical wounds until his capture. But the mental wounds always weigh more in the life of a human being. Back then has never pushed him that far. Severus is a Slyther…"

Albus fell silent. His eyes widened and his face lost all color as if he were horrified by his own words.

Sirius had no idea why, but the sudden doubt and panic in the eyes of the ancient wizard hit him like a bolt of lightning. This wasn't the all-knowing, wise Albus he always envisioned in the old headmaster, but a simple man with all his faults and for the first time, Sirius really became aware how solid into his own beliefs and suspicion even, Albus Dumbledore was.

Back in his youth, he had always known to make use of the affection, which the old man had held towards his house and the waggishness the marauders always spread. He had been enjoying the fact that everybody always expected evil from the Slytherins until proven innocent, but now, that cut and dried opinion only made him sick. No wonder Snape had turned the tables, favoring his Slytherins.

The house of the serpent had to stick together because that was the only way to stand against the common prejudices and distrust. Someone smart once said that trust could only be gained, when given first. Only, Sirius had never before even remotely envisioned that even Dumbledore was included in that. But the truth was glaringly obvious now. Deep inside, even Dumbledore held his prejudices.

"Dammit, Albus. You once told me not to measure Snape against Gryffindor standards but perhaps you should stop always measuring him against Slytherin ones. Snape is a human being and even if he can be a sodden git sometimes, he has feelings and can be hurt, even if he does his best to hide that behind his arrogant attitude."

After Sirius' outburst, dead silence hung like a blanket over the room and only the occasional chirp and click of several objects was heard in the office. Even the portraits were dead silent and almost appeared to hold their breath, while Dumbledore shuffled to his chair with hanging shoulders, letting his body sag into the cushions. He buried his face into his hands and a shiver wracked his body.

"Not even thirty minutes ago, I told someone that a truly strong man stands by his mistakes and learns from them and now I have to find out that I'm no better than him." He turned desperate eyes towards Sirius. "You are absolutely right. Severus is a Slytherin but that is a crushingly small part of him. I was so blind. Severus tried to kill himself... He nearly..." His voice was heavy from doubt, grief and desperation.

"I found him in time," Sirius appeased. "And he hasn't tried again, yet, but he will now, I'm sure of it."

Dumbledore still looked at him and Sirius thought to see tears glitter in the old man's eyes. "But why?"

Sirius smiled bitterly. "Because I was right." He was astonished how joyless his own voice sounded at this revelation. "Snape couldn't handle what happened during his captivity. I convinced him to show me his memories, back in the laboratory and he agreed to show me bits of it. Only, the whole thing ran out of control and I've seen every single, ugly detail. You said, back at the cottage, that they had tried to break Snape, but what you don't know is that they succeeded. They managed to bring him to the point where he was cowering, begging and sobbing at their feet on a dog's leash. They wanted him to survive, Albus. It wasn't important to them that he'd get his magic back because they knew that such a prideful man like Severus would never get over the fact that they broke his spirit. This last curse was only there to show him that they had complete control over him.

"Snape couldn't attack them when he stood face to face with Voldemort and Malfoy again. He just couldn't. They still had total control over him. Voldemort wanted his talents back. He planned to use him, as soon as he won the war. Snape wouldn't have been able to oppose his will at all."

The tears had finally left Albus' eyes and one ran down his cheek, disappearing into his beard.

"He swore to himself to win against them and instead they almost completely destroyed him. Snape must gain some kind of personal victory or he'll never be able to put it behind him. It must be proven for him that it's worth it to keep on living. That he has achieved something and that Malfoy and Voldemort have not taken everything from him.

Albus lowered his head. "I was such a fool. Once more I have not recognized the help this boy needs. Why is that always happening to me with him?"

"Because he's a stubborn bastard who never shows his feelings?" Sirius provided helpfully.

But if he'd hoped to lure a smile from Dumbledore he was disappointed. Albus only sighed deep in his throat, took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. "Perhaps I should have shown him more what he means to me, so he'd come to me with his problems, instead of attempting suicide."

"Perhaps," Sirius agreed meekly. It wasn't an easy thing to realize, that not even Dumbledore was above being a simple human with all his faults and weaknesses. "But it's over now. There are always things that we could have done differently in hindsight. I've been mulling that over enough, for twelve years. But what will we do now? Can't you talk to the ministry about the Order of Merlin?"

Albus shook his head regretfully. "Don't you think that I've already tried that? I had no idea that Remus and Severus would be passed over at the ceremony and I confronted Cornelius straight away. He told me to be glad that the two had been mentioned at all and that the public would not understand, if a werewolf and a former Death Eater were to be getting the Order of Merlin. Unfortunately, some other influential members of the ministry seem to share that opinion and not even my influence will be enough to change that. At least as long as Fudge holds his position."

"The public, my arse. That fricking son of a bitch," Sirius exclaimed. "He only cares about his popularity and his chances for a re-election. He's just being a jerk over the fact that we used him and his legal system for our plan."

Sirius watched Dumbledore turn around and stare out the window, deep in thought. "I have to do something. I won't let Severus down again."

"We could Imperio Fudge?" Sirius suggested after a while.

Albus sat up straighter and sternly looked back at him. "I will not lower myself to Voldemort's level, using dark magic, Sirius."

Sirius shrugged, the gesture nonchalant but his eyes burning. "Well, then Snape will kill himself again."

Dumbledore got off his chair and walked over to the fireplace. For a while he just stood there, unmoving, his back turned towards Sirius, his eyes directed towards the flames.

Sirius waited silently. If he was honest to himself, he had no idea what to say. He was at the end of his wisdom and could only hope that the ancient wizard would pull a miraculous, simple solution out of his sleeve, which would resolve this whole mess.

In the end, Dumbledore squared his shoulders and turned back around. For a moment he held Sirius' gaze and then turned towards the door. "I won't let that happen. Come with me, Sirius."

"Where?" Sirius asked with a queasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. Surely the headmaster didn't intend to...

"We're going to see Severus. I have to talk to him."

He _did_ intend... But Sirius couldn't allow that. It would be disastrous.

"Wait Albus...please!"

His near panicked yell made the headmaster pause and look at him startled.

"There is a problem," Sirius began. "I have given him my word that I wouldn't tell anyone. He would..."

"...interpret it as a new breach of trust," Dumbledore ended the sentence in a murmur. "I see."

"Which means that you can't let him know that I have told you. It would be too much for him, after all that's happened."

"I'm afraid that we don't really have a choice here, my boy. If all what you've told me is true. But don't worry, I won't confront him with everything right away. I just want to talk to him and with a bit of luck he'll start telling me on his own."

T.B.C.


End file.
